


You're Better Than Your Tears

by Kamaevis (orphan_account)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bullying, Child Abuse, Dave is Dumb, Dumb teenagers being dumb, Jade is Cute, John is Put Through the Ringer, M/M, Rose is Helpful, Self Harm, cheesy cliches, idk what else to say
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 14:23:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 51,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Kamaevis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <strong>[DISCONTINUED]</strong>
</p><p>John's almost a year clean and struggling with his addiction to the feel of razors gliding through his skin. With Rose's constant support, Jade's unfailingly chipper attitude and his own determination, he's stronger than he's ever been.</p><p>But Dave's been distant, ignoring his pestering, texts, and phone calls. Dad's been working late. School's more like hell than anything else, and the siren song of the razors tucked away in the bathroom cabinet is louder than ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is largely self-indulgent and I'm a bit hesitant to even post it. It is intended to be continued, though if nobody reads it then the later chapters will simply stay saved on my computer for my own purposes.
> 
> Expect copious amounts of cheesy fluff and angst along with a generous helping of ridiculous cliches.

–- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 16:34 --  
EB: dave?  
EB: daaaaaave?  
EB: look, you have been ignoring me for a week, now.  
EB: and i know you're not ignoring rose and jade!  
EB: i have looked back through our pesterlogs to see if i said something hurtful  
EB: but i honestly can't find anything.  
EB: i don't know what i did wrong!  
EB: but whatever it was  
EB: i'm sorry, okay?  
EB: please talk to me again  
EB: i mean  
EB: bluh  
EB: i'll just go  
EB: pester me whenever i guess  
–- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 16:45 –-  
  
You leaned back in your chair, staring at your little wall of blue text. A week. He'd been ignoring you for an entire week. You'd gone through the last pesterlog between the two of you dozens of times looking for anything that could've irritated him or hurt his feelings, but you'd left on a pretty good note! He'd even promised to message you the next day—which, as it turned out, had been a lie. If Rose and Jade hadn't talked to him, either, you would've figured that he was busy, but a bit of pestering of Rose and Jade revealed that he'd been talking to them as per usual.  
  
After stretching your back and conceding defeat—Dave obviously wasn't going to reply—you stood and shuffled over to your bed, flopping down atop the Ghostbusters sheets. It was easy to play it off to Rose and Jade that you were irritated about being ignored, but mostly it just made you want to cry. You missed Dave. You missed his ridiculous metaphors and the way he'd spam your client with rap while you were sleeping and he was getting ready for school. And you needed him now more than ever, what with your dad taking extra hours at work and the harassment at school escalating to the point that you were icing bruises every evening.  
  
You rolled over onto your stomach and buried your face in your pillow. You wouldn't cry, though. You weren't a kid—you were sixteen, for god's sake, you were a tough, manly sixteen year-old boy and you didn't cry because your best friend was ignoring you for absolutely no reason. So instead you lay there and think about every reason that Dave could possibly hate you—you're annoying, you're dorky, you ramble about your movies too often, you insult his style and his cool kid persona, you can be a total douche (though it's not like he's never douchey, either) and the list probably would've carried on forever had your computer not chimed with a new Pester.  
  
Instead of getting up and going to your computer, you reached over to your night stand and groped for your phone, snatching it up and propping yourself up on your elbows before opening your Pesterchum app. Jade was trying to get ahold of you.  
  
–- gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 16:57 –-  
GG: hey john! :D  
GG: hows it hangin?  
EB: hey jade! :B i'm pretty good how are you?  
GG: oh im great!  
GG: my pumpkins are growing beautifully! :D  
EB: wow i'm glad to hear that!  
EB: what a talented gardner little jade is growing up to be.  
GG: awwww thanks!  
EB: no problem!  
EB: so uh  
EB: have you happened to talk to dave today?  
GG: yeah were talking right now!  
GG: is he still ignoring you? :(  
EB: yeah...  
EB: i must have really made him mad.  
GG: he is just being a butt >:(  
GG: oh but i have to go feed bec  
GG: ill talk to you later okay!  
EB: alright!  
EB: bye jade!  
GG: bye john!! <3  
-– gardenGnostic [GG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 17:10 –-  
  
You tuck your phone under your pillow and resume your pouting. Conversations with Jade are usually short and filled with a lot of exclamation points and smiley faces, but her bright green text and chipper attitude always make you feel better. Usually, she'll be swept off into some sort of chore or she'll fall asleep at her computer, and it's almost laughable that she's the busiest of you four even though she lives on a secluded island with her wealthy grandfather.  
  
You're a little glad that Rose hasn't pestered you. You usually love talking to her, but when something's bothering you, she picks up on it way too quickly and then proceeds to pick your brain apart to figure out the root or your problems. You love her to bits, but right now you're not in the mood for one of her tentacle therapy sessions. You roll over onto your back and lift your hands up to stretch them a little. Your left sleeve hikes up just a little and an old, faded scar catches your attention. Your stomach drops then lurches back up to catch in your throat and you drop your hands immediately, tugging the sleeve harshly over your hand and probably stretching the fabric irreparably with the force of it.  
  
No, you berate yourself, you're better than that.  
  
You shove your hands behind your back and lay on top of them and close your eyes and breathe and fight the urge that fights its way into your head. Inhale and exhale, inhale and exhale. You're okay. Two months and you'll be a year clean and there's no way you're giving that up. You couldn't even imagine admitting to Rose—the only one who knew about your little problem—that you relapsed just because you and Dave got in a fight, even if that fight happened to be completely one-sided.  
When the urge passes, you squirm under your blankets, close your eyes and settle in for a nap, assuring yourself that you'll be fine.  
  
–  
  
Two weeks later, you realize that you actually might not be.  
  
You come home with a bruise flowering on your shoulder from being shoved into your locker and Dave still hasn't spoken to you and you're on your way to failing Biology and everything's shitty. Your dad's not home—big surprise there god he was supposed to have today off—and you feel like your world is crumbling around you.  
  
You dump your bag by the front door and hurry up the stairs. Your head is spinning and your heart is pounding and you slam the bathroom door shut and wrench open the cabinet under the sink. You hadn't thrown out your razors—you should've, you know you should've, but their presence was comforting—and you find them tucked neatly away in your overnight bag. You grab one and hold it shakily between your fingers and you wonder if maybe you should clean it first because it's been a while, but fuck, you can't wait.  
  
You hike up your sweatshirt sleeve and let the razor glide through your skin. It leaves a vibrant trail against your pale flesh, slicing through old scars. Blood oozes and pearls, hovering on the wound like beads and it's not enough. Another cut, a little longer. Then another.  
  
You feel light. Not dizzy and nauseous but like you're floating, and for a minute everything's okay. The blood wells and runs and god did you miss this. For a few moments, you just wait, relishing the feeling, the glow, but then you know you have to clean up. Make sure dad never finds out.  
  
You drop the razor back into the bag and fumble for a cotton round and some rubbing alcohol. Cleaning the cuts burns, and not in the good way. You wince and hiss but you know it's necessary because the last thing you need is an infection. You bandage the wounds gingerly and tuck your back back behind all the cleaning supplies before tugging down your sleeve and leaving the bathroom like nothing had ever happened. But your arm aches and the guilt sets in.  
  
You go to your room and sit at your computer and the guilt wells in your chest and gnaws at your lungs. You have to tell her. You promised.  
  
You reluctantly open Pesterchum and hope that she's offline so she'll get the messages later. No such luck.  
  
-– ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 15:03 –-  
EB: rose?  
EB: rose i'm sorry.  
TT: Excuse me? Sorry for what, John?  
EB: i fucked up  
EB: big time  
EB: ten months down the drain  
EB: fuck i'm sorry.  
TT: Oh, John. Don't apologize. Relapse is a part of recovery.  
EB: i know but  
EB: god i was doing so well  
EB: i didn't even have the urge for a really long time  
EB: and now it just  
EB: fuck  
TT: I know it must be frustrating, but that you came immediately to me instead of hiding it shows how much progress you have made.  
TT: You did not fuck up, John.  
TT: You may have stumbled, but you didn't fall.  
EB: thanks, rose.  
TT: Of course. If I may ask, what triggered this?  
EB: it's just  
EB: my dad's never home anymore.  
EB: he always goes to work early, gets home late, and goes straight to bed.  
EB: he doesn't even bake cakes anymore.  
EB: i never thought i'd miss that but i do.  
TT: It's perfectly reasonable to miss your father.  
TT: Have you tried speaking to him about it?  
EB: no  
EB: i never see him  
EB: he barely even acknowledges me outside of his notes  
EB: and i don't want to be a bother  
TT: I doubt your father would see it as a bother at all, John.  
EB: maybe  
EB: but it's not just my dad  
TT: Care to elaborate?  
EB: i don't have many friends at school  
EB: and like  
EB: that's never been a problem because i have you and dave and jade  
EB: but lately people have been  
EB: uh  
EB: not nice  
EB: it's nothing serious it's not like they're beating me up after school  
EB: but they shove me around in the hallways and dump my books on the ground  
EB: and call me names  
EB: and there's this kid in my biology class  
EB: who just hates me  
EB: and now i'm almost failing biology  
EB: and it sucks, rose.  
TT: I'm so sorry, John. I know just how nasty kids at school can be.  
TT: Perhaps you should discuss the bullying with your Biology teacher?  
TT: If your enthusiasm for Biology comes across at school as it does through instant messaging, I'm sure they would be willing to assist you.  
EB: yeah  
EB: i've got a meeting with her next week.  
EB: i just got kind of overwhelmed today  
TT: I understand.  
TT: Would it be incorrect for me to assume that it may also have something to do with a certain Mr. Strider?  
EB: oh yeah  
EB: that's definitely a big part of it  
EB: he still hasn't spoken to me  
EB: not a word  
EB: i message him every day but he ignores me  
EB: and i just don't know what i did wrong.  
TT: You are not at fault in this situation, John.  
TT: And even if you were, you have made it abundantly clear that you wish to remedy the situation, and Dave has rudely ignored you.  
TT: Current behavior aside, though, he is your best friend and you should know that this situation isn't going to be permanent.  
TT: Not if I have anything to say about it, that is.  
TT: Now I must give him my full attention.  
TT: So I may pull the stick out of his ass.  
TT: And beat him with it.  
EB: hehehe okay rose  
EB: talk to you later  
TT: Goodbye, John.  
-– tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 15:37 –-  
  
–  
  
-– tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 15:40 –-  
TT: Dave.  
TT: David.  
TT: Do not ignore me, I am not in the mood.  
TG: oh and you think i am  
TG: you think i got home from school and threw my shit on the ground and said  
TG: aw man  
TG: i so wanna go have the tentacle therapist herself preach at me for an hour  
TG: damn that sounds great  
TG: like a fine ass idea  
TT: I repeat, I am not in the mood.  
TT: Not even remotely, Mister Strider.  
TT: As a matter of fact, I am livid with you.  
TT: The mood that I am currently in is one that would make me desire to bludgeon your face in with your own sunglasses were we in the same room.  
TG: jesus  
TG: what the fuck did i do to get your panties in a twist  
TT: It is less about what you did and more about what you haven't been doing.  
TT: Namely, talking to your best friend.  
TG: fuck  
TG: rose i dont want to talk about this  
TG: fuckin honestly  
TT: We are not ignoring this issue any longer, Dave.  
TT: I have already let it drag on far too long.  
TT: It has come to the point where it is causing harm, and I will not stand for it to continue.  
TG: wait harm what the fuck are you talking about  
TT: John is blaming himself.  
TT: He believes that he has done something to upset you and has ruined your relationship and hurt you in the process.  
TG: why the fuck would he think that  
TG: i mean jesus its not like he did anything  
TT: Perhaps it's because you stopped talking to him and offered no explanation as to why.  
TT: Don't play dumb, Dave.  
TT: I repeat, I am not in the mood.  
TG: well what do you want me to do about it  
TT: Stop being an imbecile and talk to him.  
TT: That's what I want you to do.  
TT: You are doing nothing but hurting both yourself and him.  
TG: its been like three weeks  
TG: what the fuck am i supposed to say  
TT: Figure it out.  
–- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 15:50 --  
  
–  
  
You sigh, close out of pesterChum and flop down on your bed. You have some homework that you should probably do, but you're way too tired. Your arm throbs and you bite your lip, curling your fingers around your arm and squeezing a little. Pain shoots up to your shoulder and you shudder. It would be so easy to fall back into the old routine, sitting in the bathroom after school, carving lines of fire into your wrist.  
  
Before your thoughts can stray too far, though, your computer chimes again. Probably Jade. As much as you love talking to her, you're tired and ready for a nap. You roll onto your side, nuzzle your face into your pillow and fall asleep.  
  
When you wake, it's to the front door opening. Dad's home from work. A part of you wants to stay put, wait for him to vanish into his bedroom and not come out. But you want to see him. You want to see him a lot. So you drag your ass out of bed, run a hand through your mussed hair and wander out into the hallway. Dad's in the living room, removing his hat and coat and hanging them on the rack. You lean against the upstairs hall's railing and smile a little.  
  
“Hey dad.”  
  
He starts. Usually, when he gets home, you're locked away in your room doing homework or talking to your friends—admittedly, the whole not seeing each other thing wasn't totally on him.  
  
After recovering from his initial surprise, he smiles warm and tired with lines around his eyes that you don't quite remember.  
  
“Hello, son. How was your day?”  
  
You shrug because you don't feel like lying. “Okay, I guess. Not bad but not great. Uh, I haven't eaten dinner yet if you'd like to...join me?”  
  
Dad's face fell a little and your stomach plummeted. Of course.  
  
“I'm sorry, son, but I'm very tired, and I have an early shift in the morning.”  
  
You stamp back the tears and grind your teeth as you shove away from the railing. “Whatever. Forget I even asked.”  
  
You don't wait for him to respond and flee back to the safety of your bedroom. He could have at least considered it instead of immediately shooting down the idea. You weren't even hungry anymore.  
  
You slumped into your computer chair and opened up PesterChum to reply to Jade. Except it wasn't Jade. You stared for a moment at the chumhandle flashing at the bottom of your screen in that obnoxious red. Was it actually...?  
  
You've never opened a window so fast in your life.  
  
-– turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 16:01--  
TG: yo  
TG: egbert  
TG: john  
TG: johnny boy  
TG: john my man  
TG: my main bro  
TG: youre ignoring me arent you  
TG: im hurt  
TG: okay not really  
TG: i probs deserve it  
TG: ive been a pretty shitty friend  
TG: like majorly shitty  
TG: im like the nic cage of friendship up in this bitch  
TG: so i wanted to like  
TG: apologize and shit  
TG: so uh  
TG: whenever you feel like forgivin me  
TG: feel free  
-– turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 16:09 --  
  
-– ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 20:12 -–  
EB: uh...  
EB: dave?  
EB: sorry i wasn't there earlier.  
EB: i took a nap.  
EB: so are you uh.  
EB: not upset with me anymore?  
TG: fuck egbert  
TG: i was never upset with you  
TG: i mean jesus  
TG: your best bro starts ignorin you out of the blue  
TG: you get mad bro  
TG: you get mad and call me stupid  
TG: you dont go blamin yourself  
TG: sheesh  
TG: what would i even be mad at you about  
EB: i don't know...  
EB: i looked through all our pesterlogs and couldn't find anyting...  
EB: so i just figured that i'd annoyed you!  
TG: are you serious.  
EB: i can be very annoying!  
EB: i know that!  
EB: it would be understandable for you to be annoyed with me. :B  
TG: egbert what  
TG: fuck that  
TG: dude im pretty much used to your brand of irritating  
TG: its pretty much endearing now  
TG: kinda like that shitty orange soda bro drinks  
TG: its shitty  
TG: but i like it  
TG: if i was gonna fuck off because you annoyed me  
TG: i woulda done it years ago  
EB: this...  
EB: isn't actually making me feel much better :/  
TG: wow yeah that  
TG: that was stupid shit sorry  
TG: what i mean is  
TG: yeah you can be a little annoying sometimes  
TG: but like  
TG: so can i  
TG: i dont mind your annoyingness  
EB: okay...  
EB: so are you going to tell me why you ignored me for three weeks?  
EB: because  
EB: that's something i'd really like to know.  
TG: yeah uh  
TG: its kinda  
TG: complicated  
EB: i'm not exactly in a hurry  
TG: right  
TG: its  
TG: uh  
TG: i dont  
TG: this is kind of  
TG: hard to talk about  
EB: i'm all ears  
TG: look dude im  
TG: gay  
EB: okay  
TG: okay?  
EB: uh, yeah.  
EB: okay.  
EB: what do you want me to say?  
TG: i dont know  
TG: freak out  
TG: block me  
TG: never speak to me again  
TG: normal shit  
EB: you...  
EB: did you really think i would do that?  
TG: i dunno maybe  
TG: youre always shoutin about how youre not a homosexual  
TG: so i thought  
EB: what?  
EB: you thought that i'd ditch my best friend because he's gay?  
EB: you thought i'd throw away four years of friendship over you preferring guys to girls?  
EB: really?  
TG: john  
EB: you honestly thought that?  
TG: no  
TG: i dont  
TG: it was stupid  
TG: i was just being stupid okay  
EB: just because i'm not gay doesn't mean i care that you are  
EB: jeeze  
TG: john  
EB: look, i've got homework to do, okay?  
EB: i'll talk to you later  
TG: john  
-– ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] 20:45 –-  
  
You shove away from the desk.  
  
Is that really how Dave sees you? Does he really think that you'd kick him out of your life just because he's gay? You slouch in your chair. Is that how all your friends see you? Is that the kind person they think you are? Your shoulders hunch and you grab at your arm again and yeah, yeah you could definitely get used to this again. You shake and the tears flood your eyes, unbidden.  
  
But you're not going to cry.  
  
You refuse to.  
  
You're not better than a lot of things, but you're better than tears.


	2. Chapter 2

You're more nervous than you thought about your meeting with your Biology teacher. You like Ms. Maryam, you really do! She's soft spoken and she has a nice smile and despite her prim, proper and subdued appearance and demeanor, she was quite enthusiastic about biology and you'd had a few spirited discussions with her that you remember fondly. But you'd seen the way her mouth had turned down when she passed you a test that you'd only barely passed and you'd heard the disappointment in her voice when she'd asked you to come in for a meeting.  
  
You really didn't want to disappoint her, too.  
  
Your stomach twists as you wait outside her door. She didn't have a sixth period class, so you had to wait for her to return from the teachers' lounge. You feel exposed here, with your shoulders slumped, your back to a wall and your fingers curled around the straps of your backpack. Waiting around made you feel like a target.  
  
A pair of boys slinks passed. One elbows the other and nods to you and you flinch a little, but they just snort, call you a fag and continue on their way. You're used to it. The insults hardly get to you anymore; mostly you're just grateful they didn't decide to get physical.  
The clicking of heels draws your attention and you turn and spot Ms. Maryam walking toward you with a folder tucked under her arm. Black lips curl into a small smile as she approaches.  
  
“Hello, John. I trust you are well?”  
  
You nod mutely as she passes and unlocks her classroom. You follow her inside and she motions at an empty chair situated in front of her desk before sitting in her own seat. You drag your feet over to the chair and sink down onto the hard plastic, dread pooling in your gut. What if she was going to fail you? You're a sophomore; failing wouldn't ruin your chances at graduation but it would drop your GPA and you can't even imagine facing your dad.  
  
“So,” Ms. Maryam leans forward, folding her hands on the desk before her, “John.”  
  
“Yes?” You reply meekly.  
  
“At the beginning of the semester, you were one of my best students. As a matter of fact, if I recall correctly, we had quite the in-depth discussion about genetics, did we not?”  
  
You nod. She smiles again before continuing,  
  
“You're a smart boy, John,” She says, “Incredibly smart—at least in Biology, though I don't doubt that you excel in your other classes as well. Your recent grades haven't been reflecting that, though. You're not failing, and I earnestly doubt that you are in any danger of doing so, but the sudden change has worried me. I know full well that you're capable of much more than a C-minus.”  
  
Your shoulders slump and relief floods your veins. You're not failing. If nothing else, you haven't fucked up your education. But Ms. Maryam is still looking at you with a furrowed brow and wide eyes, and though the guilt sits heavy at the back of your mind, it's comforting to realize that she cares.  
  
“It's, uh,” You glance up at her then quickly back down to your lap; do you really want to tell her? “It's just hard to pay attention, I guess. I guess I was just more motivated at the start of the semester.”  
  
That's a shitty excuse and you both know it. She doesn't look angry, though. Just worried.  
  
“John, if that were true, you would be doing poorly on tests, but you pass those quite easily. It's the homework assignments that are holding you back,” Her frown deepens, “Is there something going on at home that is preventing you from completing your homework? If so, the two of us could certainly work something out to help you succeed in this class.”  
  
You shake your head, “Nothing's going on at home. Well, nothing that's affecting school. I just need to work harder, is all.”  
  
Her lips press into a thin line. For a moment, she simply stares at you, her green eyes searching your face for something you hope to god she doesn't find. As nice as it is to know she cares, you don't want to burden her. Finally, a little sigh puffs out her nose and she leans back in her chair.  
  
“Alright. You won't fail, but I would appreciate it if you would try a little harder to live up to your potential. I would hate to see that intelligence and enthusiasm go to waste. You're excused; I'll see you tomorrow.”  
  
“Thanks Ms. Maryam,” You say as you stand, “I'll definitely work harder. See you tomorrow!”  
  
You make your way out of the classroom, but you don't quite make it. Your hand is curled around the doorknob when Ms. Maryam calls your name. You turn with your eyebrows raised. She stares at you in silence for a moment before speaking,  
  
“It's getting warm out, isn't it?”  
  
You blink, caught off guard.  
  
“Uh. I guess. Why?”  
  
More silence for a beat. You're beginning to wither under her unwavering stare.  
  
But then the corners of her mouth quirk up just slightly and the furrow in her brow smooths out.  
  
“Never mind. Just...remember that you can always come to me for anything, even if it isn't school related,” As she turns back to the stack of papers on her desk, she says quietly, “And I like your sweatshirt.”  
  
More than a little confused, you wish her well and flee her classroom. Ms. Maryam has a sort of oddball sense of humor, you know that from her lectures, but that didn't make any sense. Why did the weather matter? Why did she compliment your sweater? You're halfway to the front doors of the school when it hits you.  
  
You halt in the middle of the hallway. Your stomach plummets and your hand scrabbles to grab at your left wrist, where the most recent wound is. Panic wells in your gut and your chest seems way too small for your lungs. Your heart is pounding and you feel way, way too exposed and you hurry out toward the parking lot with your throat feeling like it's swelling shut.  
  
Calm down, you think as your shoes slap against the pavement. No one's looking at you. Calm down. Breathe.  
  
As you make your way home, you jerk your sleeves down over your hands and ball the fabric in your fists. It's like every person you pass is staring at you, like they can see through your sleeves, see the revolting evidence of your disgusting habit. You feel dirty, filthy, like you haven't showered, like everyone can see all of your faults clear as day. You've never been more relieved to see your front door, and you dart across the lawn to get to it.  
  
You're so focused on just getting inside where it's safe that you don't even notice dad's car parked in front of the house. You fumble with your keys and unlock the door and stumble in, hell bent on making your way straight to the bathroom. You nearly jump out of your skin when your dad greets you from the couch.  
  
“Hello, John!” He smiles widely and if it weren't for your irregular breathing and the roaring in your ears you would've been ecstatic to see him, “I managed to get off early today. I was thinking we might go see a movie and then grab dinner? I feel awful that I've been working so much.”  
  
Your throat is closing and it's getting harder and harder to breathe. All you can think about is the razor waiting for you in the bathroom, the pain that will make this panic go away. You shouldn't turn this down, you know you shouldn't, this is your chance. But the words are tumbling out of your mouth faster than you can actually think about them.  
  
“Sorry, dad. I've got a lot of homework that I really need to work on. Don't want to fail, right? Maybe some other time!”  
  
You don't wait for him to reply, you ignore the disappointment on his face, and you bolt toward the stairs. The encounter is forgotten almost as soon as it happened because, dammit, you need your razor. You slam the bathroom door closed and drop your backpack.  
  
It hurts.  
  
It hurts and you're scared and you sit on the floor with a wrist covered in blood and you wonder what Ms. Maryam is going to do and what Rose would think if she could see your arms and you just feel a thousand different kinds of useless. Your breath hitches a little and you stare at the ceiling.  
  
Footsteps approach the door and you freeze. You squeeze your eyes shut and will your father away. After a beat of silence, the footsteps recede and you hear his bedroom door close.  
  
You exhale and look down at your bloodied wrist. Sometimes you wonder if it might just be easier to press a little harder, drag the blade a little farther, let your blood soak the bath mat and stain the tiles. Then dad would pay attention, Ms. Maryam could stop suspecting, Rose could stop worrying. It would be so, so easy.  
  
But you think of Jade finding out. You think of Jade crying because though you don't understand it, you know she loves you. You think about how Rose would blame herself even though she'd done nothing wrong. And you think about Dave.  
  
Things have been better with him. Tense, because your chest still aches when you think about how he thought you would send him away because he's gay, but better. He's your best friend, and if you mean half as much to him as he does to you, you don't think you could possibly bear the guilt of taking yourself away from him.  
  
So you shove the urge down and tuck it away at the back of your mind and you do the same with the razors, hiding them in the back of the cabinet as usual. Arm freshly bandaged and sweatshirt pulled down to hide the damage, you scoop up your backpack and make your way back to your bedroom on shaking legs. You don't actually have any homework, so you sit at your computer and open the internet. Your Pesterchum app is flashing at the corner of your screen, but everything's too fresh, too raw, and talking to your friends might shatter you.  
  
You spend about an hour dicking around, checking your Facebook, scrolling through pages of dumb websites, catching up on Dave's blog—because as stupid as it is, it's something he puts effort into despite how hard he tries to make it seem like he doesn't care. When you run out of things to do, you give in and open up Pesterchum. Rose and Jade have pestered you, but Dave's hasn't. He's been hesitant to message you first since you exploded at him last week, and you understand. It still sucks, though, having to work up the nerve to instigate one awkward conversation after another.  
  
You sighed and opened up Jade's window.  
  
-– gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 13:15 –-  
GG: john!  
GG: jooooooohn!  
GG: helloooooooo?  
GG: oh youre still at school arent you!  
GG: haha i forgot about timezones woops!  
GG: anyway!  
GG: grandpa's taking me on a trip on his boat!  
GG: for a whole week!  
GG: so im not going to have internet on your birthday :(  
GG: im actually leaving pretty soon so i probably wont be here when you get home from school either!  
GG: but i sent your birthday present today and it shouuuuuuld arrive right on time! :D  
GG: so happy birthday john!  
GG: ill message you the second i get home!  
GG: <3  
-– gardenGnostic [GG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 13:23 –-  
  
-– ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] –-  
EB: hey jade!  
EB: you probably won't get this but i wanted to say thanks!  
EB: have fun on your trip!  
EB: talk to you later!  
-– ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering gardenGnostic [GG] at 13:25 –-  
  
As guilty as you feel about it, you're a little glad that Jade won't be around. With everything that's going on, you're not terribly confident that you could keep up the happy pretenses, and the last thing that you want to do is upset Jade.  
  
And you don't bother seeing what Rose has to say. You haven't told her about any of the cuts beyond your initial relapse and you don't intend to. But Rose has the uncanny ability to detect even the slightest of deviations from normalcy, and she'd know immediately that something was wrong if you tried talking to her tonight. Your cursor over Dave's chumhandle, hesitate for the briefest of moments, then click on it.  
  
-– ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 13:30 –-  
EB: dave!  
TG: sup  
EB: not much  
EB: i just got home  
TG: did you  
TG: nice  
TG: always good to make it home  
TG: perfect in fact  
TG: if the perfection  
TG: of making it home  
TG: was a diamond  
TG: i would definitely deem it worthy of using to propose  
EB: oh my god, what?  
TG: uh yeah  
TG: that was dumb  
EB: everything you say is dumb.  
TG: wow rude  
TG: so uh  
TG: school bro  
TG: how was it  
EB: it was great.  
EB: so great.  
EB: i'm not failing biology.  
EB: so that's a thing.  
TG: dude wait you were failing biology  
EB: i literally just said that i wasn't  
EB: pay attention  
TG: you know what i mean  
TG: like  
TG: you not failing biology isnt usually something that would be like  
TG: an achievement  
EB: well i was worried for a while  
EB: but i had a meeting with ms. maryam today  
EB: and i've got a c-!  
TG: dude  
TG: youre like  
TG: a total biology nerd  
TG: your fucking chumhandle has biologist in it  
TG: how could you be pulling a c- in biology  
TG: im the c- student here not you  
TG: whats goin down bro  
EB: nothing!  
EB: i guess senioritis is just setting in early!  
TG: were juniors bro  
EB: i said early didn't i?  
TG: you cant possibly think im that stupid  
EB: uh...kinda  
TG: wow  
TG: ouch  
EB: dave i was joking!  
TG: uh huh  
TG: whatever  
TG: oh would you look at the time  
TG: ive got homework  
TG: so i can maintain my d average  
TG: because im so fucking stupid  
TG: later  
-– turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 13:53 –-  
EB: dave, wait!  
EB: fuck.  
-– ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 13:54 –-  
  
Well great fucking job.  
  
You lean forward, covering your face with your hands, feeling like the scum of the earth. Dave was just worried about you! And you fucked it up just like you fuck up everything. God you stupid fuck.  
  
What were you thinking? Calling him stupid. Before, you might not have thought that he would actually get angry over something so petty, but now, knowing that he thought that you were so easily scared off...  
  
God.  
  
You fucked up.  
  
–  
  
You spent the next couple of days apologizing to Dave every chance you got. The guilt ate at you constantly, and you barely remember school at all. If you lacked attention before, you might as well have not gone to school at all with how much knowledge you managed to retain the rest of that week.  
  
At the very least, Dave wasn't ignoring you. He was just curt and made constant references to your idiotic insult. Every day that he was upset made you feel worse. On Friday, when you came home from school, the anxiety churning in your gut swelled and you ended up hunched over the toilet, spilling your lunch. You decided not to bother eating after that—not permanently, you weren't going to add anorexia on top of everything else that's wrong with you—but until things settled down enough that you weren't going to be vomiting up any food you attempted to choke down.  
  
You were so caught up in beating yourself down for being stupid that you didn't even realize that it was your birthday on Sunday. You woke to an empty house. Or you figured it was empty; that was pretty much its normal state of being lately. No one came in to wake you, and you ended up sleeping in till noon—sheesh, when did you start sleeping so much?—so you knew dad couldn't be home.  
  
You ended up just kind of laying in bed for an hour, staring at the ceiling and letting your mind wander. You can't seem to find the motivation to drag yourself out of bed until your computer starts making noises alerting you to pestering.  
  
Feeling tired and grimy, you pry yourself from the sheets and slink over to your computer. Both Rose and Dave are pestering you—which isn't weird on Rose's part but it's the first time in weeks that Dave's been the one to pester you. You open Dave's first.  
  
-– turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 13:04 -–  
TG: yo man  
TG: congrats  
TG: one whole year man  
TG: alive and breathin and shit  
EB: um.  
EB: what?  
EB: did i miss something?  
TG: you serious  
TG: uh  
TG: dude tell me youre not serious  
EB: i don't know what you're talking about.  
EB: is it an anniversary or something?  
TG: of sorts  
TG: its like  
TG: an anniversary of a pretty big occasion in your life  
TG: a pretty important occasion  
TG: like life or death importance here bro  
EB: i'm still lost.  
EB: please stop beating around the bush.  
TG: its your birthday john  
TG: april 13th bud  
TG: seventeenth anniversary of the day you came screaming out of your mother  
EB: oh.  
EB: wow i totally forgot.  
TG: yeah i can see that  
TG: so like  
TG: happy birthday and everything  
TG: but are you alright bro  
TG: youve been kind of weird  
TG: and you usually wont shut up about your birthday  
TG: like  
TG: im pretty sure you couldnt possibly forget with how much you told the rest of us  
TG: are you sick or something  
TG: pregnant maybe  
EB: oh my god, shut up.  
EB: i've just been busy, alright?  
EB: school's been really stressful.  
EB: my birthday just seemed kind of unimportant you know?  
TG: no i dont know  
TG: your birthdays not unimportant egbert  
TG: if you had never been born  
TG: who would i rap to  
EB: wow, i definitely feel the love  
TG: i hope so im practically oozing love here  
TG: im drowning in it bro  
EB: hehe whatever dave  
EB: thanks for the birthday wishes!  
EB: rose is trying to pester me too  
EB: probably for the same thing  
EB: i'll talk to you later, okay?  
TG: uh yeah  
TG: talk to you later  
TG: have a good birthday  
-– ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 13:21 –-  
  
-– tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 12:09 –-  
TT: Good afternoon, John.  
TT: Happy birthday.  
TT: John, are you there?  
TT: Ah, you must be talking to Mr. Strider.  
TT: He was intent on beating me to the well wishes.  
TT: I assume he succeeded.  
TT: Either that or you chose to answer him before me regardless of which of us sent the first message.  
TT: In that case, I'm hurt, John.  
TT: Terribly hurt.  
EB: sorry rose!  
EB: it's been a long time since dave has pestered me first!  
EB: and...i kind of forgot that it was my birthday!  
TT: Did you really?  
EB: yeah!  
EB: dave had to remind me or i wouldn't have remembered at all!  
TT: Your father didn't tell you?  
EB: um...  
EB: i actually don't think he's home.  
EB: i think he's at work, and he didn't wake me to say goodbye.  
TT: Oh, John...  
EB: no, it's alright!  
EB: really!  
EB: i understand that he has to work  
EB: and i don't think that i would have thanked him if he woke me up early on a sunday just to say happy birthday.  
EB: besides, it's not very important.  
EB: even i forgot!  
TT: John, you must know that that's not true.  
TT: Your birthday is very important, and it would be perfectly normal for you to wish for your father to be present.  
EB: it's really fine rose  
EB: i promise  
EB: but i'm going to go, okay?  
EB: i've got to take a shower  
TT: John, please, is everything alright?  
EB: just fine!  
EB: talk to you later!  
-– ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 13:32 –-  
  
You sigh, stretch, and stand from your computer. You aren't actually going to shower—as nice as being clean sounded, the thought of actually climbing into the shower makes you want to crawl right back into bed and never come out. So instead you ruffle your hair a little, grab your glasses off the nightstand and venture out into the house.  
  
Just as you suspected, dad isn't home. There's a fresh cake sitting on the counter with a note wishing you a happy birthday. You smile a little, but it feels empty. Hollow. You can imagine him smiling, puffing on his pipe as he finishes off the cake decoration. You can almost hear him speaking the written words out loud. To your face. In person.  
  
You bite back the bitterness and flee the kitchen. You're breathing heavily in the living room, pretending that you're totally okay, that this is totally okay, that it doesn't matter. And then you remember your conversation with Jade.  
  
You wander over to the front door and hesitate a little, bracing for disappointment. You open it inwards and find a medium-sized green box sitting on the porch. A smile curls your lips as you lift it up and bring it back inside.  
  
You sit down on the couch and pry it open. On top is a note, scrawled in Jade's bright green ink, complete with multiple exclamation points and plenty of cute little drawings in the margins. Your smile grows as you read, and your heart feels considerably lighter. You put the note aside and pull the package onto your lap, pulling away the lips to peer inside. Tucked snugly within the cardboard is a photo.  
  
You lift it up gingerly. It's a shot of the Ghostbusters, suited up and standing in a proud line. Scribbled across the top is Bill Murray's signature and along the bottom are the words, For John. Your heart swells and you wonder just how much it cost her to manage this. Your affection only grows as you look down into the box and find a tee shirt folded neatly inside. You lift it out and shake it a little. The front reads JOHN EGBERT PROPERTY OF JADE HARLEY, and you turn it around to find the words, TREAT WITH CARE; LIKES NIC CAGE, MAGIC TRICKS, AND GHOST BUSTERS.  
  
You stare for a moment with misty eyes before pulling the shirt close to your chest and burying your face in the fabric in a moment of elation that you'll definitely deny if questioned.  
  
Maybe it'll be okay, after all.  
  
–  
  
-– turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 13:50 –-  
TG: yo lalonde  
TT: Is this about John?  
TG: whoa what  
TG: how did you know  
TT: Because I'm worried, too.  
TT: You spoke to him, yes?  
TG: yeah  
TG: he forgot it was his birthday  
TG: who even does that  
TT: Not him. Not usually.  
TG: and hes got like a c- in biology  
TG: mr biology nerd himself is a minus sign away from a d  
TT: It's unsettling.  
TT: I am also privy to some information that worries me further.  
TG: what information is that  
TT: It's not my place to say.  
TT: And no amount of questioning will get me to budge on the matter.  
TT: Just know that John is not in a good place right now.  
TT: And his lack of regard for his own birthday implies a lack of self regard.  
TG: what are we going to do  
TG: i mean what can we do  
TG: shit  
TT: Just keep an eye on him, alright?  
TT: If we can't do anything now, we may have to pose an intervention during our meet up this summer.  
TG: thats like two months away  
TT: I'm aware.  
TG: fuck  
TT: My feelings exactly.  
-– turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 14:03 --

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Officially committed to this story. I've got lots of plans.


	3. Chapter 3

You wake early the next day, feeling better than you have in a long time. You don't actually have to be at school for a couple hours, but you can smell coffee and know that dad's awake. So you put on your glasses and sneak downstairs, finding him standing at the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee in his hand and a newspaper spread before him.

He's startled by your entry. 

“John!” He says, a hesitant smile on his lips, “I'm so sorry I was unable to get yesterday off. Happy birthday!”

You return the smile and shuffle over. You throw your arms around his shoulders and though he's startled at first, he returns the embrace.

“S'alright, dad,” You say, voice muffled because your mouth is pressed into his shoulder, “I understand.”

His arms tighten around you and he smells like sweet tobacco and cakes and it's been so long since you've hugged him. He's big and warm and comforting and wow you really do love your dad. Your chest doesn't ache quite so much as you hug him.

When you finally release him he pulls back and ruffles your hair with a smile. His voice is strangely tight when he speaks.

“Seventeen. The time sure flies, doesn't it? I'm so proud of you, son, and your mother would be, too.”

Dad doesn't talk about mom much. There's a framed picture of her on the fireplace, right alongside Nanna, and he smiles at it whenever he passes. He loved her a lot, you suppose, and though you don't really remember her, the thought that they were happy together—with _you_ —makes the pain in your chest ease a little. 

You return his smile and decide not to mention the tears shining in his eyes. 

He wishes you well, finishes his coffee and presses a kiss to the top of your head before heading to work. 

Since you have some time to kill before you have to start getting ready for school, you go back up to your bedroom and sit at your desk. Dave and Rose are probably in school right now, and though you know they'd probably answer you anyway, you don't want to distract them from their classes—especially Dave, he's got a hard enough time paying attention as it is.

So instead, you pester Jade. She won't get it, of course; she's still on her trip with her grandpa. But you didn't get a chance to thank her for her gifts.

-– ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] at 06:12 –-  
EB: hey jade!  
EB: i hope you're having fun on your trip!  
EB: actually, i know you are!  
EB: because your grandpa definitely wouldn't take you on a boring trip!  
EB: hehe, anyway, i just wanted to thank you for the gifts.  
EB: how did you even get bill murray's signature?!  
EB: that's crazy!  
EB: and i will have you know that i will proudly wear that shirt to school today.  
EB: got to make sure that everyone knows who i belong to, right?  
EB: hehe  
EB: but really  
EB: your gift made me feel a lot better than i have in a long time.  
EB: so thank you.  
EB: you're a really great friend.  
-– ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering gardenGnostic [GG] at 06:17 –-

-– ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] at 06:17 –-  
EB: <3  
-– ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering gardenGnostic [GG] at 06:17 –-

Smiling to yourself you stand from your desk and flop down on your bed. You're not really tired, but you snuggle up into your pillow and sigh, resting your eyes just a little and letting your mind wander. Things weren't nearly as bad as you were making them out to be. Your dad cares, your friends care, heck, Ms. _Maryam_ cares! Not to mention the fact that this school year was almost over and right after your junior year ends, you get to fly out to Jade's grandpa's island for your yearly meet up!

Things were really looking up.

You roll onto your back and stretch your arms out on either side of you. You're gonna be okay. You know it.

–

You end up wearing the tee-shirt over a black turtleneck because as happy as you are today, the last thing you need to do is flash around your scarred arms. You walk to school and smile at everyone you pass, and when you arrive at your locker, you even return the bright grin from the girl whose locker is beside yours. Usually, you ignore her, keeping your head down and hurrying off to class and trying to avoid drawing any sort of attention.

When you smile, her eyes widen like she's's startled. 

“You smiled!” She says excitedly, “You never smile!”

You feel your cheeks warm. “Yeah, I suppose. I'm having a good day.”

“Well, I'm glad!” She sticks a hand out, “My name's Nepeta, what's yours?”

You take her hand, “John.”

She giggles, “What an ordinary name! Not that that's a bad thing! I'm sure you can find lots of keychains and stuff with your name on them. I never can, so I have to make my own.”

“Make?”

“Yeah! I'm an artist. Oh! Hey Equius!”

You didn't even notice the boy who'd walked up behind you, and when Nepeta's greeting drew your attention to him, you jumped. He was _big_. Not in the beefy football way but like he lifted weights every night at the gym. He could probably snap you in half with his pinky. 

You shrink against your locker, terrified that he's going to hit you. But he's not even looking at you—or you don't think he is; you can't really see his eyes behind the cracked sunglasses he's wearing. He speaks, voice low and growly,

“Nepeta. You are going to be late for class.”

She scoffs, slamming her locker closed with a sigh, “You're such a _mother_ ,” she scolds, “And you're also being very rude, just ignoring my friend like that. Equius, say hi to John.”

Friend. She'd called you her _friend_. Was making friends really that easy?

Equius looks at you, and his eyebrows are furrowed like it's painful. A bit of sweat is gathering at his hairline.

“Yes. Hello...John.”

Nepeta giggles, “Could you be more awkward, Equius? Anyway, you're right and I should probably go. See you around, John!”

She waggles her fingers as she bounces over to Equius's side and loops her arm through his; you notice a tail peeking out from the hem of her shirt, likely tucked into the waistband of her skirt but don't comment because it's really kind of cute. You watch them walk down the hallway with a warm feeling in your chest. 

You'd made friends! And it hadn't even been that hard! 

You think that maybe it's a little sad that someone calling you a friend can excite you like it does, but you don't particularly care. You hurry to class with a smile on your face.

–

Of course, it couldn't last. 

It never does. 

You're headed toward the bathrooms at lunch—you'd rather hole up in a stall and do homework by yourself than risk drawing attention to yourself by braving the cafeteria—when a couple of guys carrying lunch trays round the corner in front of you. You keep your eyes on the floor and try to avoid them, but one recognizes you.

“Dude, is that Egbert?” He says, elbowing his friend. You flinch a little and try to hurry away.

“Hey, buddy, where're you headed?” 

You don't answer.

One of them catches you by the shoulder and turns you around to face him. You clutch the straps of your backpack and stare fixedly at the ground, hope they'll leave you alone if you just don't react. 

“Hey, Bucky,” The larger of the two says, “How's your day goin'?”

You stay resolutely silent. You're not going to give them what they want. You're not going to let them tear you apart and ruin the good day you'd _finally_ been having. 

“You ignoring me?”

You flinch a little.

“I think he is.”

There's silence for a moment and you wonder if maybe they'll leave you alone. It was a stupid thing to hope for, but your day had been going so _well_.

Up until now, when warm and slick and greasy was slopping onto your hair and slithering down your face and neck. You make a startled sound, watching as stray blobs of congealed spaghetti sauce splat onto the ground by your feet. He hadn't- why would he-

You're shaking as they start laughing, and you can feel the tears burning in your eyes until you hear a relatively familiar voice carrying down the hall.

“Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing?”

You turn a little and see Nepeta stomping down the hall, Equius not far behind her. She shoves between the two boys, surprisingly strong for her small stature and whirls around so she's standing between you and the pair of bullies. 

“You guys have a problem?” She demands.

One snorts, “And if we do?”

Her lips pull away from her teeth in an almost feral snarl and she hikes up the sleeves of her flannel. Before she can do anything, though, Equius is there with a hand on her shoulder. He turns to the two boys, lips pulled tight and brow furrowed, 

“I suggest you go.”

You're biting your lower lip and fighting back tears when they finally leave, muttering that you're not worth it. You don't blame them. Picking on some loser kid _isn't_ worth facing down Equius. 

Nepeta turns, eyes wide, “John, are you alright? Oh, geeze, they got it everywhere, didn't they? C'mon, let's go to the bathroom and get you cleaned up.”

She takes you by your elbow and guides you to the men's bathroom. You follow silently, still trying to reign in your emotions.

Equius stands at the door with his arms crossed as Nepeta removes her gloves, turns the sink on and cards wet fingers through your hair. There's a furrow in her brow and her lips are turned down at the corners and, god, you just make everyone miserable, don't you? Nepeta was so happy this morning, and here you are, bringing her day down with yours. 

You catch her wrist and she jumps a little.

“You don't have to,” You say quietly.

She blinks at you with green eyes before her gaze softens a little and her hand covers yours.

“I want to.”

You drop your hands and let her. Once you've stuck your head under the faucet and she's assured you that your hair is spaghetti-free, she asks for your shirt. At first, you refuse, insisting that it's fine, that the shirt is special to you. She gives you a huffy roll of her eyes and informs you that if it's so special, you'll let her clean it off so it doesn't stain.

You wriggle out of the tee-shirt, your chest aching when you see the red smeared over Jade's bright green text, but you shuffle over to the wall near the door and sit, waiting for her to finish. You're grateful to them, you really are. No one's ever stood up for you before. But mostly you're embarrassed, especially with the big, buff epitome of masculinity standing silently in the doorway watching everything from behind his cracked shades.

Nepeta scrubs at your shirt and you bury your face in your hands. 

“It is alright.”

You start, and honestly, his voice is so deep that it vibrates through the ground. You glance up at him hesitantly, but he's watching Nepeta. His arms are crossed and his brow's pinched like it was before, and he seems almost...nervous? What would _he_ have to be nervous about?

“What?” You ask curiously.

“It is alright,” He repeats, “You, uh, do not need to be...down. Or feel guilty about our help. Nepeta, she...she enjoys helping.”

You stare, mouth open slightly and you don't realize you're doing it until he shifts awkwardly and scrubs his hand along the back of his neck.

“I, uh, I mean, I enjoy helping, too. And what those bullies were doing to you was wrong and highly uncouth. Nepeta is more...excitable than I am, though. Please, do not take my solemnity as apathy-”

“No,” You cut in hurriedly, “I didn't think that- I just- you're kind of intimidating, you know? You're the kind of person I would expect to be shoving me around in the hallways.”

Wow, Egbert. Nice one. His frown deepens, lines creasing his cheeks with the force of it.

“Do you...” His head inclines toward you, “Do you truly believe I would do such a thing?”

“No! No! God, fuck, no,” You bury your face in your hands again and speak with your mouth pressed against the heels of your hands, “God, that was stupid. Like, buff guys like you don't usually want to stick up for scrawny kids like me.”

He nods and his frown fades just a little, “I see. You have only come into contact with those who use superior physical ability as a weapon against those who cannot fight back. In contrast, I prefer to use my strength to assist those who lack it. Not that I think you lack strength—I don't mean to be rude.”

You wave it off. You're aware that you're not particularly strong—spending most of your days at home fumbling through computer programming and eating your dad's cakes doesn't exactly amount to a lot of muscle mass. Across the room, Nepeta wrings out your shirt and shakes it a little before walking toward you.

“I don't think you're gonna want to wear this,” She says, “I got as much out as I could. I could hang it up in the closet in the art room if you'd like, let it air out a bit.”

“That'd be great, thanks,” You say, taking her hand when it's offered and letting her hoist you to your feet. Yeah, she's definitely stronger than she looks. 

“Also, you could borrow my hat if you're worried about your hair,” She plucks the gray beanie off her head and offers it to you, but you shake your head,

“You've done enough. But lunch is probably almost over, now, so I should start heading to Biology.”

You're about to turn and leave when Nepeta _lunges_ at you and throws her arms around your middle. You stumble back a little and stand petrified with her cheek nuzzling your chest before you awkwardly and hesitantly put your arms around her and pat her back.

“We're friends, okay?” She says, “I know we only really started talking today, but I can tell that I'll like you and so will Equius, and we'll protect you, alright?”

She pulls back and- oh god, is she crying?

She sniffles a little and scrubs at her eyes with a little giggle, “Sorry, a little emotional. I just hate how mean people can be. Anyway, meet me by our lockers after school and I'll give you back your shirt, okay?”

You nod, unable to find words and then she's waving goodbye and following Equius out the door. You kind of feel like you were punched in the gut, but not really in a bad way. This whole friend thing just kind of caught you by surprise. God, how long could you have been friends with those two? How many times did you ignore her friendly smiles in order to protect yourself and inadvertently isolate yourself further?

Well, that doesn't matter because you're friends now, and that's what counts.

–

Ms. Maryam notices your improved mood and smiles through the entire lecture, which makes you feel even better. Maybe she'll stop worrying. 

At the end of the day, Nepeta bounces along in front of you, chattering about her day while leading you to the art room where she returns your shirt, which was still damp with blotches of pale, faded red stains that would probably never go away. Nepeta frowns at them and tries to apologize, but you tell her that, reallly, she has nothing to apologize for. She did more than enough.

She offers you a ride home with her and Equius, but you decline because you really don't want to impose. She flaps her hand at you and rolls her eyes and tells you the offer will still stand tomorrow before hopping in the passenger seat of his truck and blowing you a kiss as they pull out of the parking lot. 

You like this. You could get used to it. You'll actually have something to look forward to tomorrow!

You hurry home with a skip in your step, and you're not even bothered that you're dad's not home. You know he loves you, and he only works to support you. Any homework you have can be done at lunch tomorrow—maybe with Nepeta and Equius?—so you hurry upstairs to get on your computer and talk to your friends. 

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 13:21 –-  
EB: hey rose!  
TT: Hello, John.  
EB: how was your day?  
TT: Not terribly bad. I presented my speech today on Women's Rights.  
EB: wow!  
EB: how'd that go?  
TT: I believe many of my peers were unable to comprehend my wide vocabulary.  
TT: Many had very vacant expressions by the time I was halfway finished.  
EB: aw, i'm sorry!  
TT: It's quite alright.  
TT: My teacher enjoyed it, and my classmates' bemusement was quite entertaining.  
EB: hehe i would imagine so.  
TT: How about you, John? You seem to be in a better mood than you have been in days past.  
EB: i am, actually!  
EB: i had a really good day today!  
TT: Well, I'm certainly glad to hear that. What happened to make it so spectacular?  
EB: first i woke up pretty early  
EB: and i was in a good mood from yesterday because of the gifts jade sent me!  
EB: and my dad was in the kitchen  
EB: and he and i talked a little  
EB: which is, y'know, more than we've done in a long time.  
TT: That's wonderful, John.  
TT: And on a side note, I do hope that you don't mind that you didn't receive my gift yesterday.  
TT: The gift I have prepared for you would be rather hard to send in the mail.  
TT: So I will present it to you at our meeting this summer.  
EB: that's totally alright!  
EB: i was happy just with the birthday message you sent me. :B  
TT: I'm glad.  
TT: Now, back to your day?  
EB: oh yeah!  
EB: so i was in a good mood when i went to school  
EB: and there's this girl whose locker is next to mine  
EB: and she usually smiles at me  
EB: but i kind of ignore her  
EB: but today i smiled back!  
EB: and we started talking a little and i learned that her name is Nepeta and she's an artist.  
EB: then she introduced me to her friend Equius!  
TT: She sounds lovely.  
EB: she is!  
EB: and then at lunch, a couple of guys were hassling me  
EB: and they dumped their lunch on my head and ruined my shirt. :(  
EB: but then nepeta and equius came down the hall and scared them off!  
EB: and they helped me clean up and offered me a ride home and said we were friends!  
TT: That's fantastic.  
TT: I am sorry about your shirt, though.  
EB: yeah, me, too.  
EB: jade probably worked really hard on it.  
EB: but it's not completely ruined!  
EB: nepeta did a good job of cleaning it.  
EB: my dad might be able to help, too!  
TT: I do hope so. Jade would be furious if she learned that bullies ruined her present.  
TT: She may even fly up to Seattle to give them a piece of her mind.  
EB: hehe, yeah, that sounds like something she'd do!  
TT: Indeed.  
TT: But alas, I must be going. I've much psychology homework to which I must attend.  
TT: I hope your day continues to be a good one.  
EB: thanks, rose!  
EB: have fun!  
TT: I will do my best.  
\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 13:32 -–

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 13:34 –-  
EB: afternoon, dave!  
TG: its like  
TG: evening here  
TG: get your timezones straight buddy  
EB: urgh whatEVER.  
EB: afternoon, evening, when do you even draw the line?  
TG: whenever you want to give your best bro shit about timezones  
EB: ha ha  
TG: your sarcasm wounds me  
EB: good!  
EB: that was my goal.  
EB: asshole.  
TG: youve discovered me huh  
TG: finally youve realized  
TG: that your bro from texas  
TG: is nothing more  
TG: than an anal sphincter  
EB: gross, dave!  
TG: its not gross  
TG: its natural  
TG: would you prefer poo pucker  
TG: booty orifice  
TG: chocolate factory  
EB: dave stooooop  
EB: that is not how i wanted this conversation to go.  
EB: that is not how i want any of our conversations to go.  
EB: i don't feel like vomiting right now.  
TG: youre so squeamish  
EB: no i'm not!  
TG: you totally are  
TG: so anyway man  
TG: how did you want this conversation to go  
EB: well!  
EB: i wanted to tell you about my day!  
TG: hit me  
EB: well it was a pretty good day!  
EB: i talked to my dad this morning  
EB: and i made some friends at school!  
TG: friends huh  
EB: well  
EB: only two  
EB: but that's more than usual!  
TG: i see  
TG: so are they  
TG: friends  
TG: or are they  
TG: frieeeeends  
EB: dave it's not like that!  
EB: i'm pretty sure the two of them are dating, anyway.  
TG: kinky  
EB: bluh, shut up!  
EB: their names are nepeta and equius  
TG: dude what are they like aliens or something  
TG: wait  
TG: nevermind i have a friend named karkat  
EB: hehe maybe we're all just meant to make friends with strangely named people  
TG: your last name is egbert  
EB: so?  
TG: dude  
TG: egbert is such a weird name  
EB: oh, because strider is so normal  
TG: strider is the coolest name of all names  
TG: i dont walk  
TG: i dont saunter  
TG: or swagger  
TG: i stride  
EB: hehe, okay, if you say so!  
TG: damn right if i say so  
TG: so whats up with those funky named people  
TG: you guys just stumble across each other  
TG: did the heavens open up and bathe you in light  
TG: did angels sing  
EB: god, dave, shut up!  
EB: no, nepeta's locker is next to mine!  
EB: we just never talked before.  
EB: and then she and equius helped chase off a couple of guys who were bothering me  
EB: and nepeta helped me clean the spaghetti out of my hair and shirt!  
TG: uh  
TG: spaghetti  
EB: yeah  
EB: the guys dumped their lunch on me  
TG: what  
EB: yeah it happens sometimes  
EB: but it's not like they hurt me!  
TG: have  
TG: john have people hurt you before  
EB: not badly!  
EB: just some bruises and stuff.  
EB: it's nothing i can't handle  
EB: especially now that i have nepeta and equius!  
TG: john  
TG: why didnt you tell me  
TG: what the fuck  
TG: how long has this been going on  
EB: urgh i don't know  
EB: since, like, middle school.  
EB: it's no big deal!  
EB: really!  
TG: yes it is a big fucking deal  
TG: there are some assholes at your fucking school who are hurting you  
TG: thats a huge fucking deal  
EB: dave, i really don't want to talk about this  
TG: did you talk about it with rose  
TG: is that what she knew that i didn't  
EB: yes, i talked about it with rose, okay?  
EB: but she just kind of...  
EB: found out  
EB: i wouldn't have told any of you otherwise!  
TG: why the fuck not  
TG: were your friends john  
TG: or did that change when i wasnt looking  
EB: of course it didn't change!  
EB: i just didn't want you guys to worry unnecessarily!  
TG: its not unnecessary john  
TG: jesus christ  
TG: there are people hitting you hard enough to bruise  
TG: thats not okay  
EB: dave, i'm fine.  
EB: i promise  
EB: even if i wasn't before, i will be now because i've got friends here  
TG: yeah  
TG: friends who can actually be there  
EB: dave, that's not what i meant!  
TG: i know  
TG: it just  
TG: it sucks man  
TG: it sucks hearing this shit you have to deal with  
TG: and not being able to do shit about it  
EB: that's why i didn't want to tell you guys!  
EB: because there's nothing you can do about it so there's no need for you to have to worry about it!  
TG: but there is a reason to worry  
TG: because were your friends  
EB: i know.  
EB: i'm sorry.  
TG: no dont fucking apologize  
TG: its not  
TG: jesus  
TG: look man i gotta go  
TG: bro and i are grabbing dinner  
TG: ill talk to you later okay  
EB: you're not mad are you?  
TG: fuck no  
TG: well  
TG: not at you  
EB: dave...  
TG: talk to you later john  
EB: bye.  
\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 13:57 –-

You frown at the computer. This is exactly why you kept your school problems under wraps. You knew that Dave would just worry, and that's not what you wanted. You wanted him to be happy, not dragged down into misery with you. 

But there's nothing you can do about it, now. It's not really your fault that he decided to be best friends with a loser like you, right? 

With a sigh, you stand and head toward the living room. You put in Ghostbusters, flop on the couch and hope that every day is as good as this one.


	4. Chapter 4

Thursday afternoon finds you in the eastern stairwell with Nepeta sprawled between you and Equius, her head on Equius's knee and her legs draped over your lap.  
  
She's very tactile, always holding your arm or climbing on Equius or sitting in one—or both, as with the case now—of your laps. It's been a long time since you've had friends who weren't on the internet, and her little touches were like a physical anchor, a reminder that yeah, she and Equius are real, they're your friends.  
  
It's nice.  
  
You're startled out of your thoughts when you suddenly find yourself unable to breathe through your nose. You jump and panic floods your chest for a moment before you hear Nepeta giggling.  
  
Equius is pinching your nose, his face straight but the corner of his lip twitching.  
  
“Okay, okay, let him go,” Nepeta says, waving her hand, “Sorry, John. You were spacing again.”  
  
You relax as Equius releases his hold, and you feel your cheeks flush with heat as you mumble an apology.  
  
Nepeta rolls her eyes, “Don't apologize, silly. What were you thinking about?”  
  
You shrug, not really wanting to admit that their friendship means so much to you for fear of sounding clinging and creepy. You've only known them for a few days, after all.  
  
But Nepeta's face lights up and she pushes herself up onto her elbows.  
  
“Oh,” She says with a waggle of her eyebrows, “Someone special?”  
  
Your face heats up even more, “No!”  
  
She's practically vibrating with excitement, “Oh my god, who is it?”  
  
“No one!” You insist, “There's no- I don't have a special someone!”  
  
Her grin goes impossibly wider and she leans closer to your face so you have to lean back so she's not pressed right against your flaming cheeks.  
  
“Is there a special someone you want to be your special someone?” she asks coyly.  
  
“No!”  
  
“Nepeta, leave the poor boy alone,” Equius chides, plucking her beanie off of her head, “If he doesn't wish to speak of his romantic pursuits, do not try to force him.”  
  
Her bottom lip pokes out in a pout, but she relents. Snatching her beanie back, she falls back once again to lay her head on Equius's lap.  
  
“You'll tell me someday,” She says. It's not a question, and, somehow, you figure she's not wrong. You actually don't have any special someone in mind at the moment—except maybe that one little crush, but no you're definitely not thinking about that now that's weird—but you're surprisingly comfortable with the odd pair and you don't doubt that, if there came a time when you did have a special someone, you would tell Nepeta without hesitation.  
  
You absently toy with her tail—a birthday present from Equius, she told you when you asked about it—as she chatters about her latest art project. About five minutes before lunch ends, she sits up again and jabs at your shoulder.  
  
“I almost forgot! Equius and I are going to be gone tomorrow!”  
  
“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow, “Why?”  
  
She shrugs, “Family thing.”  
  
You pause, looking between the pair of them. They look absolutely nothing alike, and you'd kind of just assumed they were dating.  
  
“Family?” You ask, “You mean, you two aren't...”  
  
Nepeta's brow furrows, “Aren't what?”  
  
“Like...a thing?”  
  
There's silence for a moment, and Nepeta's eyes search your face before she dissolves into laughter. Your face is burning again and even Equius is chortling a little at your expense. You grumble an indignant apology and wait for her to stop laughing so she can explain.  
  
“He's my brother,” She says, scrubbing tears from her cheeks with the heel of her hand, “Adoptive brother, but we grew up together. I could never- oh god, no.”  
  
“My family adopted Nepeta when we were children,” Equius elaborates, “I have never seen her as any more than a sister.”  
  
You groan a little, “Well, I'm embarrassed.”  
  
“Don't be, it's an honest mistake.”  
  
Nepeta ruffles your hair a little bit before the bell rings and you have to go your separate ways.  
  
You don't tell them, but the thought of them not being around tomorrow scares you a bit. Most of the guys who pick on you have left you alone since Monday aside from some snide comments and a little shoving in the halls, but if Nepeta and Equius aren't there...  
  
You don't really want to think about it.  
  
–-  
  
As it turns out, your fears aren't unfounded.  
  
Friday morning comes far too soon, and you can practically feel the dread pooling in your gut as you get ready for school.  
  
It only worsens as the day goes on. By lunch you're actually considering going home because you feel like you could vomit at any minute. You don't, of course. You wouldn't be able to explain to your dad that, no, you weren't actually sick, you were just lonely.  
  
No one really bothers you any more than usual, though, so when the final bell of the day rings, you relax. You were just being stupid, like always.  
  
You've just finished putting your mathbook in your locker when someone shoves the door closed, smashing your arm between it and the locker's frame. You squeak as pain shoots up your arm, both from the force of the metal and the way the fabric of your sweatshirt pulls at the still healing wounds along your forearm.  
  
You turn a little when the hand holding the door close retreats and find yourself facing the two boys who'd dumped their lunch on you on Monday along with a couple more of their friends.  
  
“Hey Bucky, sorry about your arm,” one says with a wide grin, “Hope I didn't hurt you too bad.”  
  
Cradling your wounded limb to your chest, you fix your eyes on the floor and mumble, “It's fine.”  
  
“Oh, that's good. So, Bucks, where's your little posse?”  
  
You shrug. God, why can't they just leave you alone? It's not like you ever did anything to them.  
  
“Not around? Hope not. I wouldn't like to be interrupted again. I just wanna have a little one-on-one, y'know?”  
  
You want to comment that it's not actually one-on-one if he's got four other guys with him, but you figure that will just piss him off so you stay quiet. They snicker a little, whispering amongst themselves before he speaks again,  
  
“See, Bucky, I didn't get lunch on Monday. It somehow managed to get all over you. All I want is an apology—you did waste some perfectly good food, after all.”  
  
Anger makes your shoulders tighten. That's not fair. This is humiliating. Your jaw flexes and you hug your arm tighter to your chest before grinding out an apology through clenched teeth.  
  
“What was that? You're gonna have to look at me when you talk, Bucky, can't hear you with your head down like that.”  
  
You lift your head, mouth open to repeat the apology so you can just go home already, but you can't even make a sound before pain is exploding in your right cheek, your glasses are clattering to the floor and you're stumbling back into the lockers. The dials and latches dig painfully into your ribs and your head slams against the metal hard enough to make you dizzy. Your feet slip out from under you and you crash to the ground, landing hard on your tailbone.  
  
The guys are laughing around you and it takes you a minute to realize that he punched you.  
  
“Woops!” he says, still laughing, “My hand slipped.”  
  
One of them hooks their foot around your ankle and shoves your legs to the side, knocking you over so you're laying on your side, still dazed from your head hitting the lockers.  
  
“Aw, poor kid,” Someone croons, “But he still hasn't apologized, has he?”  
  
“Nope!”  
  
Someone kicks at your stomach and you make a choked little noise.  
  
“Well?”  
  
You try to gasp out an apology but you can't seem to find the air to to do it.  
  
Another kick.  
  
“Just say sorry, kid, I'm a very forgiving person.”  
  
You garble out something akin to an apology.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
Another kick.  
  
 _“Sorry.”_  
  
It's more of a croak than anything else, but it seems to be enough.  
  
“Was that so hard? C'mon, guys, we've got shit to do.”  
  
As they're walking away, you hear a distinctive crunching sound and- oh god, no.  
  
You struggle to sit up despite the agony in your abdomen and scramble to find your glasses. They're sitting a few feet away and you grab at them and your heart sinks. The left lens has been smashed to pieces and the frames are snapped along the bridge. Dammit, these were your only glasses! You sit on the floor for a moment with their remains in your hand before you realize you're drawing some weird looks and you should probably get home to assess the damage.  
You stuff your glasses into your bag and struggle to your feet. Your cheek is throbbing and your stomach feels like it's on fire and, god, this is the worst day of your life. You should've known that this would happen—you should've just skipped today. They'd only left you alone because of Nepeta and Equius, and it's not like you could expect your friends to be around to protect you all the time.  
  
You...  
  
You think it might not be the best idea to keep hanging out with them.  
  
As much as you enjoy their company, you think you'd prefer constant teasing alone to getting the shit kicked out of you whenever Nepeta and Equius weren't around.  
  
The knowledge that you're going to be alone again at the forefront of your mind, you hobble your way back home.  
  
–-  
  
When you stumble into the bathroom, there's no desperation as you fish for your razors. There's no panic, no fumbling. Just a quiet resignation. Did you honestly think it would be so easy to escape? Did you think a couple of nice teenagers were going to magically make everything better for you?  
  
You put the razor on the counter and shuck your clothes till you're standing in your boxers. A few of your cuts were torn open when they slammed your arm in the locker, and the skin is starting to darken into a bruise. You prod at it a little and hiss as hot pain shoots up into your shoulder. You'll leave your arm be today—you don't particularly relish the thought of cutting into a bruise.  
  
Your stomach is worse. It throbs along with your heartbeat and breathing stretches the muscles and makes you feel like you're getting kicked all over again. Any sort of movement makes you wince and you loathe to think how bad it'll be tomorrow. You pick up your razors and carve three lines into the inside of your thigh. The pain makes your head rush, and the ache in your arm and face and stomach fade a little because _this_ , this is pain that you can control. This is pain that's _yours._  
  
You let the blood drip down your leg, let it slither past your knee and over your calf. It's fascinating, seeing the red in stark contrast to your pale flesh. It's mesmerizing. You stop it before it can reach the floor, though. The tiles are white and you have no desire to spend the rest of the day scrubbing bloodstains out of them.  
  
You clean up and shimmy back into your clothes. Your left eye is almost swollen shut and it's already turned an ugly purple. You're definitely going to have to avoid your dad all weekend. You don't need him asking questions, not about this. Hopefully the bruise will have faded by Sunday so you can talk to your dad about getting new glasses.  
  
You retreat to your bedroom and drop your backpack by your desk. You think Jade was getting back today, so you decide to log onto Pesterchum before starting in on your Biology homework.  
  
You've only been on a few seconds when Jade starts pestering you.  
  
\-- gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering ectoBiologist at [EB] at 16:03 –-  
GG: john!!!  
GG: im back!!! :D  
EB: finally!  
EB: wow, i missed you a lot!  
EB: how was the trip?  
GG: it was sooooo cool  
GG: but ill tell you more about it later!  
GG: were going to skype with rose and dave!  
EB: oh.  
EB: we are?  
GG: yeah!  
GG: unless you dont feel up to it  
GG: that would be okay!!  
EB: no, it's fine!  
EB: i just have a lot of homework to do!  
GG: thats okay!  
GG: i have to unpack anyway.  
GG: we were thinking around um  
GG: i think it would be like seven for you???  
GG: does that work?  
EB: yeah!  
EB: i'll just get started on my homework then.  
GG: okay!  
GG: have fun!!! :)  
GG: i'll talk to you later! <3  
EB: bye!  
EB: <3  
-– gardenGnostic [GG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 16:10 –-  
  
Shit.  
  
You should've copped out, but you really did want to talk to her.  
  
You swallow thickly, drag your fingers through your hair and figure you'll come up with an excuse about your face while you do your biology homework.  
  
–-  
  
Seven rolls around much too quickly, and you're still not sure what you're going to say. An accident in PE? Do they know that you're not taking PE this semester? Jade probably doesn't; her knowledge of the public school system is meager. But did you tell Rose and Dave?  
  
Fuck it. You've got nothing else.  
  
Your Skype blinks at you, alerting you to a new video call. You inhale deeply and answer it. You can hear the three of them already chatting while the video feeds load, and Jade shouts your name excitedly. Finally, you can see them, though your camera's still warming up. Jade's skin is darker than it had been the last time you Skyped, and her hair is done up in a messy sort of pony tail. Dave's shirtless and slouched in his seat with the glasses you gave him sitting on his face, and Rose has her bangs pinned out of her face and she's not wearing her trademark black lipstick.  
  
When your camera finally starts working, though, everything goes quiet. Jade's eyebrows pinch together in worry and her lips part a little,  
  
“John, oh my god.”  
  
You manage a smile, “Calm down. It was just an accident in PE, no big deal.”  
  
Rose has lifted a hand to cover her mouth and Dave's sitting straight up in his seat, his jaw clenched tight. Great, look at you go, fucking up their Skype call like you fuck up everything.  
  
“Are you alright?” Rose asks, “And where are your glasses?”  
  
“They broke,” You say, “We were playing dodge ball and I got hit in the face. It's really nothing; it doesn't even hurt!”  
  
“Oh, John,” Jade looks like she's about to cry. Great, just fucking great. Now you're making your best friend cry. What kind of a friend are you?  
  
“I'm fine, Jade. C'mon, this call's about you. How was your trip?”  
  
She looks hesitant, her eyes flickering around her screen, likely looking for cues from Rose and Dave. Dave's still sitting completely still, brow furrowed and shoulders tight, but Rose gives a subtle nod and Jade forces a smile and starts to talk about her trip. As she talks about the boating and the whales she saw and water skiing, your eyes flicker to Dave's window. You can't actually tell because of the shades, but you can't shake the feeling he's staring right at you.  
  
–-  
  
After an hour or two, Jade signs off after nearly falling asleep at the keyboard and Rose excuses herself as well with a smile and a blown kiss. Dave starts to say something to you even though he's been nearly silent the entire time, but you quickly say goodbye and close the window before he can speak. You don't want him worrying about you. You don't want anyone worrying about you, but then a chat window opens and he's demanding your attention.  
  
-– turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 22:12 –-  
TG: dont try to ignore me egbert  
TG: you dont show up to a fucking skype call with half your face black and blue and pretend that nothings wrong  
TG: because somethings certainly not fucking right  
EB: dave, i don't want to talk about this.  
TG: well too fucking bad because were going to  
TG: youre not taking pe this semester  
TG: you practically blew up my pesterchum with how fucking excited you were about that  
TG: so dont fucking tell me it was dodgeball  
TG: what the fuck happened to your face  
EB: dave...  
TG: dont fucking dave me  
TG: what  
TG: happened  
EB: bluh  
EB: i just got a little roughed up after school, okay?  
TG: a little  
TG: egbert your face is black and blue  
TG: your glasses are broken  
TG: thats not a fucking little  
EB: yes it is!  
EB: sheesh, it's not like i've never had worse.  
TG: was that supposed to make me feel better  
TG: because it didnt  
EB: it's just a couple of bruises, okay?  
TG: a couple  
TG: there are more  
EB: fuck  
TG: where else john  
EB: just my arm and my stomach, alright?  
EB: it's not even that bad.  
TG: fuck  
TG: FUCK  
TG: tell me what happened  
EB: no!  
TG: john tell me  
EB: no!  
EB: i don't want to talk about this dave!  
TG: why fucking not  
TG: youve been keeping this a secret since fucking middle school  
TG: were friends john  
TG: youre supposed to tell me about this shit  
EB: why do you even want to know?  
EB: why is it so fucking important?  
EB: it's not like i'm dead!  
EB: i'm pretty sure they could do worse, so why are you worried about a few bruises?  
TG: fuck john  
TG: im worried BECAUSE they could do worse  
TG: and youve got some weird fucking idea that its not a problem  
EB: it's not, okay?  
EB: look, i made a stupid mistake.  
EB: i should've seen this coming but i didn't  
EB: it's my fault  
EB: it won't happen again  
TG: its not your fucking fault jesus  
TG: youve got this annoying habit of blaming yourself for everything  
EB: well, jeeze, i'm really sorry!  
EB: i didn't mean to offend you with the truth!  
TG: god fucking dammit john would you shut the fuck up  
TG: if you dont tell me right fucking now what happened  
TG: i swear i will book the next flight to seattle  
TG: bro would let me do it  
TG: and you fucking know it  
EB: god, fine!  
EB: i hung out with nepeta and equius this week, so no one really messed with me.  
EB: but they were gone today for some family thing, and the guys from monday found me at my locker  
EB: they slammed my arm in my locker  
EB: and they wanted me to apologize because he dumped his lunch on my head  
EB: and then one guy punched me  
EB: and they kicked me a couple of times  
EB: that's all  
TG: fuck  
EB: wow, it sounds a lot worse when i type it all out like that.  
TG: yeah no fucking shit  
TG: how can you not think thats a fucking problem  
EB: i'm used to it, okay?  
EB: look, i'm just not going to hang out with nepeta and equius anymore.  
EB: i'll let them shove me around in the hallways  
EB: and then they won't have to beat me up so badly  
EB: alright?  
TG: no thats not fucking alright  
TG: you shouldnt have to give up your fucking friends and let some assholes push you around just so you dont get the shit kicked out of you  
TG: tell a fucking teacher or something  
EB: no, dave.  
EB: god, this is why i didn't want to tell you guys.  
EB: just drop it.  
TG: fuck no  
EB: fuck, dave!  
EB: i'm not talking about this anymore!  
TG: john  
EB: no.  
EB: goodnight.  
\-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 23:01 –-  
  
God, why did he have to care so much? Why couldn't he just leave it alone? You weren't worth him getting all worked up. Fuck.  
  
You leave your computer and crawl gingerly into bed, trying to ignore all your aches except the one in your thigh.  
  
You're so fucking tired.  
  
–  
  
-– gardenGnostic [GG] opened memo on board Something is Very Wrong --

-– tentacleTherapist [TT] responded to memo. --

TT: Jade.  
TT: You wanted to speak?  
GG: yeah!  
GG: i invited dave too but i think hes talking to john  
GG: this is about john actually!!  
TT: Yes, I figured as much.  
GG: i dont think that bruise came from pe!  
TT: I have my doubts, as well.  
GG: im worried about him!  
GG: he hasnt really been himself lately. :(  
TT: I've noticed that, as well.  
TT: I don't believe he's as happy as he would like us to believe.  
GG: me neither  
GG: i feel a little bad for going on a trip over his birthday  
GG: that probably didnt help D:  
TT: Jade, I meant no offense, but I don't believe your presence would have altered the situation.  
TT: I mean to tell you, as did Dave, I assume, but John didn't even remember it was his birthday.  
GG: what???  
TT: Yes, Dave and I wished him a happy birthday and he was unaware of the date.  
GG: but john loves his birthday!!  
GG: i even sent him a gift!  
TT: I know.  
TT: His lack of regard for a date that was usually quite important to him is an indicator that he may be suffering from depression.  
GG: thats awful!  
TT: Indeed.  
TT: I wish only that we could actually be there for him.  
TT: Though he did tell me that he made some good friends at school.  
GG: well thats good at least

-– turntechGodhead [TG] responded to memo. –-

TG: yeah no  
TG: his friends probably wont be much help  
TT: What makes you say that?  
TG: apparently he thinks that being friends with them is gonna make shit worse for him  
TG: so he wants to stop hanging with them  
GG: what?  
GG: why would he do that??  
TG: apparently they were takin care of him this week  
TG: but they were gone today  
TG: and cause they were gone  
TG: some guys beat this shit out of him  
GG: what?????  
GG: how could they??  
GG: i  
GG: i can't believe it! >:(  
TG: right  
TG: john can be a little shit  
TG: but nobody should lay a fucking hand on him  
TT: This bullying is getting out of hand.  
TG: yeah no shit  
GG: we should tell his dad!  
GG: if it were me i know grandpa would be furious!!  
TG: i dunno if thats such a good idea  
TG: john freaked out just cause i was asking about it  
TT: He doesn't want his father to know.  
TT: And though it might actually be beneficial, to tell him would be a breach of John's trust.  
TT: It could harm our friendship with him irreparably.  
GG: ughhhhh  
GG: this is terrible :(  
TT: We don't have much longer until our meet up.  
TT: We'll have to support him from here until then.  
TT: There is little we can do until we are face to face.  
GG: i dont know if i can wait that long  
GG: not when i know someone is hurting him  
TG: yeah im with jade here  
TT: What other choice do we have?  
TT: Just cater to him.  
TT: Don't push him, and make sure he's comfortable.  
TT: The last thing we need is for him to decide not to talk to us.  
GG: i think rose is right  
GG: well just have to try to be there for him until the meet up  
TG: yeah  
TG: whatever

-– TG ceased responding to memo. –-

TT: Goodnight, Jade.  
GG: goodnight <3

-– TT ceased responding to memo. –-

-– GG closed memo. --

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have this really bad habit of making dave and john fight whoops


	5. Chapter 5

Avoiding dad is easy. He's gone all day at work, but it's not like it would make much of a difference. You spend the weekend in your room, your razors a constant companion. You don't even bother showering or brushing your teeth and when you have to use the bathroom you make a point of avoiding looking in the mirror.  
  
The last thing you need is a reminder of how shitty everything is.  
  
Sunday morning, a couple of light prods to your cheek tell you that the bruise probably hasn't gone away, and you can't risk your dad asking questions. Looks like you'll be heading to school without your glasses this week. But hey, maybe that would be one less thing for people to tease you about.  
  
Your friends pester you all weekend, and you appreciate it, you do, but you can tell that they're worried and even though that should make you feel better, it really just makes you feel guilty for making them worry. So you kept your answers curt and your conversations short.  
  
When you wake Monday morning and your head spins when you stand, you realize that you hadn't eaten all weekend, either. That's definitely not healthy, you think, so after you brush the disgusting taste out of your mouth and wash three days worth of grime off in the shower, you dress and shuffle into the kitchen for breakfast.  
  
Just your luck, dad apparently has the day off.  
  
Or he was running late.  
  
Or sick.  
  
But it actually doesn't matter why he's still home, all that matters is that he is definitely still home and he is definitely looking at your face which is definitely still bruised.  
  
“John,” He says, and that's all he says. He just stands there looking lost and that's not fair. He doesn't get to look like that. Not him.  
  
You shake your head, jaw tight and lips pressed into a thin line.  
  
“John,” He repeats and you shake your head harder, not trusting yourself to speak. You don't want to do this, not now, not ever. You'd rather he ignore you for the rest of your life than stand there looking wrecked and so unlike himself that you hardly recognize him.  
  
He holds your gaze for a moment longer before nodding shakily.  
  
“I'm...I'm going to be late for work.”  
  
You shift to the side, out of the doorway. He hesitates before leaving the kitchen, and you swear you hear him apologize but you pretend that you didn't. His coffee sits on the counter, still filled to the brim, and a newspaper sits beside it, folded neatly as though it hadn't been touched.  
  
You're not hungry anymore.  
  
You flee the kitchen and return to your bedroom, heart pounding in your chest. You want to go for your razors but you don't. That's not what you need right now. Right now, you just want to curl up in bed and forget that the rest of the world exists. And that's what you do.  
  
Fuck school; you doubt your dad will mind.  
  
Maybe a three day weekend will be good for you.  
  
–  
  
You wake a few hours later to the chime of Pesterchum. Fishing your phone out of the tangle of your sheets, you open up the app and find a stranger pestering you.  
  
Weird.  
  
\-- arsenicCatnip [AC] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 10:07 --  
AC: :33 < *ac leaps into your chat log with a wiggle of her tail*  
AC: :33 < john!  
AC: :33 < you arent at school!  
AC: :33 < are you sick?  
AC: :33 < *ac tilts her head in worry*  
EB: um  
EB: who is this?  
AC: :33 < its nepeta silly you gave me your chumhandle last week!   
  
Oh. Shit. It's going to be harder to avoid her if she can contact you outside of school, too.  
  
AC: :33 < *ac's smile fades and her concern returns*  
AC: :33 < are you f33ling alright?  
EB: not really.  
EB: i was pretty sick this morning, so my dad let me stay home.  
AC: :33 < *ac frowns and pets your head with her paws*  
AC: :33 < thats too bad  
AC: :33 < i missed you on friday  
AC: :33 < so did equihiss but dont tell him i told you  
AC: :33 < it might insult his manly pride  
EB: my lips are sealed.  
AC: :33 < *ac thanks you kindly*  
EB: hehe  
EB: you like to roleplay?  
AC: :33 < *ac nods furriously*  
AC: :33 < it's my fafurrite!  
EB: *eb smiles and scratches ac behind the ears*  
EB: uh is that  
EB: am i doing that right?  
AC: :33 < yes!!!!!!!!  
AC: :33 < *ac pounces on eb and purrs*  
AC: :33 < that was purrfect!  
EB: *eb smiles proudly and pets ac's head*  
EB: hehe  
EB: this is pretty fun!  
AC: :33 < *ac agr33s but her ears lower and her eyes grow sad*  
AC: :33 < equihiss will never roleplay with me  
AC: :33 < hes so lame  
EB: *eb nods empathetically*  
EB: purrhaps i'll have to help you convince him to :B  
AC: :33 < *ac's ears perk up*  
AC: :33 < that would be great!  
AC: :33 < h33h33  
AC: :33 < purrhaps  
AC: :33 < i knew there was a reason i liked you john :33  
AC: :33 < but i have to go because i think the teacher saw me on my phone  
AC: :33 < i hope you feel better!  
AC: :33 < *ac crawls out of your lap and kisses your cheek before wishing you farewell*  
EB: *eb waves goodbye with a smile*  
EB: thanks nepeta!  
EB: i'll probably see you tomorrow!  
\-- arsenicCatnip [AC] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 10:23 --  
  
That certainly didn't go like you wanted it to. You drag a hand down your face, forgetting about your bruise until the pain flares and you squeak embarrassingly.  
  
At least you're alone.  
  
So avoiding Nepeta is going to be a lot harder than you'd assumed. It would be great if she was just someone you knew offhandedly and were sort of friends with. But you genuinely like her. You enjoy her company and you want to continue enjoying it. You actually don't want to lose her. It's only been a week and she's already wormed her way into your heart, and that's really not fair. You make a disgruntled noise because you really don't want to think about this and you shove your phone back into the nest of your sheets before rolling out of bed for the second time today.  
  
You venture out into the hallway and you're about to head to the bathroom because your full bladder is getting pretty uncomfortable but you hear something downstairs. Chancing a look over the bannister, you spy your father sitting on the couch, holding the framed picture of your mother that usually sat on the fireplace and murmuring softly. You can't hear what he's saying and you don't want to.  
  
You practically run to the bathroom and slam the door shut so he knows that you're awake and here and so maybe he can stop acting so fucking weird. He shouldn't be apologizing and talking to a picture that he can barely look at on a regular day.  
  
Your back hits the door and you slide down, fingers tangling in your hair and pulling.  
  
Breathe, you remind yourself, _breathe._  
  
“Son.”  
  
You startle. You'd been so caught up in your panic that you hadn't heard dad approach.  
  
“You don't want to talk,” He says, “And I understand. I'll respect your wishes. I would never force you to speak to me if you don't want to. But I also don't want you to feel like you can't.”  
  
There's a pause. You're holding your breath, you realize.  
  
“I'm proud of you, son. And nothing will ever change that.”  
  
You should say something. You should say something or open the door and hug him god fucking dammit but you can't. You clench your jaw and pull harder on your hair. The pain grounds you and you squeeze your eyes shut. You stay on the floor for a few minutes after your father's footsteps fade away. You finally manage to pry yourself off the floor and do your business, but now you're actually feeling ill.  
  
It's great that your dad cares. That makes you happy. But if caring about you hurts him and makes him miserable enough that he'd rather remember mom's death than think about what you're doing to him, you think you'd prefer it if he just forgot you existed at all.  
  
Maybe it would be better for everyone if you didn't exist.  
  
You retreat to your bedroom and put on a movie—you're not even sure which—to keep your mind away from thoughts like those.  
  
Even if they're starting to sound more and more like the truth.  
  
–  
  
You feel a little better the next morning. The unplanned day off eased your frayed nerves just enough for you to manage getting out of bed and dragging your ass to school. When you stop in the office for your admittance slip, the secretary hands you a blue paper, which meant your dad had called you in and excused your absence. Your stomach twists a little and you leave the office quickly.  
  
You find Equius already standing by your locker, but Nepeta's nowhere to be found. You move to put your Biology text book away, and before you can speak, Equius is answering your unspoken question.  
  
“Nepeta is sick,” he says, “She woke this morning with a high fever. She sends her best regards.”  
  
You nod, “Too bad. I was hoping to see her.”  
  
Equius doesn't respond and the two of you lapse into a tense silence. You like Equius well enough, but you hadn't hit it off with him like you had with Nepeta. Usually, Nepeta carries the conversations between you two, otherwise Equius usually just observes with a quiet sort of affection. He still intimidates you, and you don't really know all that much about him.  
  
The silence remains awkward as he walks you to class, and you part ways with a stiff farewell to which he responds with a nod of his head.  
  
You spend the rest of the morning dreading lunch and trying desperately to think of something that you could say to him. What's he interested in? Does he even talk that much? Does he even like you, or does he just tolerate you because Nepeta's fond of you?  
  
By the time lunch actually rolls around, you're feeling nauseous. You don't want to be rude, though, so you still head to the stairwell where you find him nursing a small carton of milk from the cafeteria.  
  
“John,” he greets as you approach. You lift a hand in acknowledgement.  
  
You sit across from him, stretching your legs between you and folding your hands on your lap. You don't eat lunch at school, so you can't even busy yourself with eating something to fill the heavy silence that's fallen over you. God, why do you suck so much at making friends?  
  
After a few awkward seconds, you swallow past the lump in your throat and speak,  
  
“So, Equius...uh...what are you...into?”  
  
Nice. Very smooth.  
  
Equius turns, eyebrows raised like he's surprised you were talking to him. Maybe he really doesn't like you and he didn't want to talk to you and here you were making a huge fool of yourself-  
  
“Well...I am...interested in archery.”  
  
You blink; that was definitely not what you expected.  
  
“Archery, huh?” You ask.  
  
He laughs a little shortly, rubbing at the back of his neck, “Yes...I am admittedly not very good at it, as Nepeta often reminds me.”  
  
You laugh a little, too.  
  
“I also enjoy robotics,” He continues, “I've made a few robots which mostly take up space in my bedroom.”  
  
Another little laugh then,  
  
“And astrology, too.”  
  
Well, isn't he just full of surprises. Astrology certainly wasn't something you'd relate to him normally, but you noted the way he sat up a little straighter and the corners of his lips twitched into the beginnings of a smile. So he was _really_ into astrology.  
  
“Stars, then?” You say, “Sweet.”  
  
“The zodiac signs, mostly. I find it fascinating, the way people have invested so much into patterns in the sky, how they have dedicated all their time to correlating between the time of people's births and the stars alignment to how a person may act. That people could find so much meaning in a few clusters of lights in the sky is incredible!”  
  
He's practically beaming, a look you've never seen on him before, “I, myself, am a Sagittarius, and Nepeta is a Leo. We have matching shirts with out respective zodiac symbols which I got her for her birthday. I believe she finds it silly, but she continues to indulge me. If I may ask, when is your birthday?”  
  
“April thirteenth,” You reply.  
  
His eyebrows raise, “That was only last week, was it not? Why did you not tell us?”  
  
You shrug. At this point, you don't really want to explain to him that your birthday doesn't really seem like that big of a deal because—if Rose and Dave's reactions are anything to go by—that's not something most people feel. So you hope that your shrug will be enough of an indicator that you don't want to breach the subject.  
  
“Alright. You are an Aries, then. Interesting—I will have to do some research and perhaps make you a shirt as a belated birthday present.”  
  
He stops suddenly and looks up as though surprised, “I mean, if that does not seem to forward. I am terribly sorry if it does; I have few friends besides Nepeta and I am afraid that I am a bit rusty in the proper etiquette.”  
  
You can't help the laugh that bubbles out of your throat, and though you feel a little bad because he looks terribly mortified, the laughing won't stop. He was as nervous as you the whole time. How had you not seen that before? Nepeta's absence was a blessing in disguise, it seems.  
  
When your laughter subsides and Equius looks like he's about to sink into the stairs out of shame, you manage to speak,  
  
“No, no that's fine. That's great. It's just- I'm pretty sure I'm as bad at this as you are. You don't have to worry.”  
  
His shoulders sag in relief and he laughs, too. The conversation flows more smoothly then. You talk about your dad's obsession with baking, and he tells you about how he always ends up breaking bows when he attempts archery. He offers you his chumhandle—centaursTesticle what the hell—so that you'll know who's pestering you unlike you had with Nepeta.  
  
As you move to sling your bag back over your shoulders before the bell rings, Equius catches you by your forearm. You wince and an embarrassing, pained noise wriggles out of your chest. Equius snatches his hand back like he'd been burned.  
  
“Sorry,” his brow is pinched, his lips turned downwards, “I meant to ask earlier. John, why is your face bruised?”  
  
You panic, “Oh, uh, that? No reason. Fell in the shower this weekend.”  
  
It's obvious he doesn't believe you, “Did someone do that to you while Nepeta and I were away?”  
  
“What, no! Oh hey, that's the bell. I've gotta go. Can't be late for class! Bye, Equius!”  
  
The bell hadn't rung and you both know it, but you run down the hall anyway.  
  
–  
  
You find out sixth period that there'd been a fight and Equius had been suspended for punching a kid in the face.  
  
A kid who just happens to be the one who'd dumped spaghetti on you.  
  
–  
  
\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering centaursTesticle [CT] at 17:13 –-  
EB: why did you do that?  
CT: D--> Hello, John  
CT: D--> Do what e%actly  
EB: oh come on don't play dumb.  
EB: you got suspended for punching a guy.  
CT: D--> Yes, I did, indeed  
CT: D--> I do not see where you are factored into this equation though  
EB: god, there you go again.  
EB: you know what i mean.  
EB: we both know why you punched him.  
EB: and we both know you didn't have to.  
CT: D--> No I did not have to  
CT: D--> But I did and there is no changing that, now  
EB: so why'd you do it?  
CT: D--> John, I may be lacking in social graces, but I am not a complete fool  
CT: D--> I am perfectly aware that your injury was not suffered in your shower  
CT: D--> And while it was only a sneaking suspicion of mine after lunch  
CT: D--> It so happened that the boy I punched chose to flaunt it before me  
EB: but why does it matter, jesus.  
EB: so i got roughed up.  
EB: big deal.  
CT: D--> I apologize  
CT: D--> I was under the impression that we were friends  
EB: we are!!!  
CT: D--> Then what is the problem  
CT: D--> Had someone harmed Nepeta would you not be first in line to hit them  
EB: well obviously  
EB: but i'm not nepeta  
EB: i'm just john  
CT: D--> Do not speak like that  
CT: D--> I will not tolerate it  
CT: D--> I punched him and it is done and over  
CT: D--> Nothing can be done to change it so you may as well stop trying  
EB: god, this is just going to make it worse, you realize that right?  
EB: he's going to be pissed and you'll be suspended  
EB: i don't need you to fight my battles for me, okay?  
EB: i can handle myself  
CT: D--> I had no desire to imply that you could not  
EB: well you did  
EB: so just  
EB: fuck off and mind your own business  
CT: D--> I apologize John  
CT: D--> I wished to cause no offense  
EB: whatever  
EB: just don't do it again  
EB: ugh  
EB: bye  
\-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering centaursTesticle [CT] at 17:22 –-  
  
\-- arsenicCatnip [AC] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 17:53 –-  
AC: :33 < *ac approaches eb slowly with her tail betw33n her legs*  
AC: :33 < equihiss means well john  
AC: :33 < he didnt mean to hurt your f33lings or anything  
AC: :33 < please dont be mad at him  
AC: :33 < *ac sighs in disappointment*  
AC: :33 < alright  
AC: :33 < well ill be at school tomorrow  
AC: :33 < so ill talk to you then  
AC: :33 < um  
AC: :33 < for the record  
AC: :33 < i wouldve punched the guy too  
AC: :33 < *ac slumps dejectedly away from eb with a sad wave goodbye*  
\-- arsenicCatnip [AC] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 18:07 --

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erugh I'm kind of losing confidence in this. I feel like my writing is just getting worse as it goes on. I'm really sorry about the poor quality of this chapter. :(


	6. Chapter 6

-– turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 15:23 –-  
TG: yo  
EB: hey dave!  
EB: whats up?  
TG: not much man  
TG: just chillin  
TG: bros doing some mixing in the living room so i cant concentrate on any of my homework  
TG: figured id bother you  
EB: i'm your last resort huh?  
EB: wow i'm flattered.  
EB: can you see me swooning?  
EB: because i'm totally swooning.  
TG: last resort my ass  
TG: i couldve messaged one of those fine ass ladies we associate with  
TG: couldve turned on the strider charm and swept them out from under your feet  
TG: but no  
TG: here i am  
TG: messaging nerdy little john  
TG: you should feel honored  
EB: oh, i do.  
EB: take me now mister strider.  
EB: take me in a manly fashion.  
TG: well arent you full of surprises  
TG: wouldve had you pegged for one of those wait for marriage types  
TG: puttin out on the first date  
TG: color me impressed  
EB: hey, fuck you, man.  
TG: isnt that what we were just planning  
TG: anyway  
TG: there actually was something i wanted to talk to you about  
EB: oh?  
TG: yeah  
TG: and like i guess i could talk to the girls  
TG: but jade's just happy about everything  
TG: and rose gets all  
TG: therapist  
TG: y  
EB: therapisty?  
EB: really, dave?  
TG: shut up  
EB: hehe alright  
EB: so what did you want to talk about?  
TG: well uh  
TG: jesus this is  
TG: well  
TG: theres  
TG: um  
TG: fuck  
EB: dave, just spit it out already, jesus!  
TG: fine fuck  
TG: theres uh  
TG: theres this dude  
EB: uh huh  
TG: i think i told you about him before  
TG: maybe  
TG: his name's karkat  
EB: yeah, i think you've mentioned him before!  
TG: yeah well  
TG: i might be uh  
TG: like  
TG: interested in him  
EB: oooooooh so you've got a cruuuuuuuush  
TG: stuff it egbert  
EB: well, what's he like?  
TG: i dunno  
TG: shouty  
TG: hes angry all the time  
TG: and he likes shitty romance movies  
TG: like i think the two of you could bond over how shitty your taste in movies is.  
TG: but i dunno  
TG: its kind of endearing  
TG: like when he gets angry and his face turns red  
TG: and he tries way too fucking hard  
TG: and like  
TG: i dont fuckin know  
TG: i feel like such a sap  
EB: little dave's all grown up and getting crushes on shouty boys  
EB: how cute  
TG: fuck off  
TG: jesus  
TG: anyway i think hes got a thing for this terezi chick  
TG: so i doubt i have a chance  
TG: but like  
TG: he and i are pretty close  
TG: and i wanted to know if youd be down with memoing it up with us sometime  
TG: cause i think youd get along  
TG: wow fuck how much of a loser am i  
TG: there goes all my cool kid cred  
EB: shut up, dave, oh my god, you're literally the only person who actually thinks that you're cool.  
EB: that sounds fine.  
EB: maybe not this weekend though.  
EB: i've got a couple of big papers due monday that i need to actually start working on.  
EB: you could ask jade, though.  
EB: or rose.  
EB: i'm sure rose would looooooove this.  
TG: i want you all to be friends with the guy i dont want to scare him off with roses creepy mind probing and wizard porn  
TG: and harley is  
TG: a little overbearing i guess  
TG: i dunno man i just want you two to talk first  
TG: the girls will be down if you are  
EB: hehe, alright  
EB: maybe next week or something?  
EB: i wasn't kidding about those papers, and i should actually be working on them right now.  
TG: alright ill let you do your homework like the good little nerdy boy you are  
TG: later  
EB: bye!  
-– turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 16:13 –-  
  
Oh.  
  
You stare at your computer screen, at the alternating blue and red text, in a sort of trance. This was normal, right? Of course Dave would get a crush on someone. Everyone gets crushes, even you! You'd had a thing for this girl, Vriska, when you were a freshman, and Dave had helped you through her rather harsh rejection.  
  
It was totally normal that he would want to talk to you about his infatuations—totally normal that he'd want you to talk to him and get along with him.  
  
But you feel off.  
  
You're not upset or sad or angry, you just feel like your world has been turned on its side, like everything in your life has been shifted just a few inches to the right and your mind is telling you that it's wrong, wrong, _wrong._  
  
You scrabble for the razor tucked into your desk drawer—you've collected more now, and you've got them stashed away in your bedroom and the bathroom—but it doesn't help. The pain just makes your head spin instead of soothing the frayed edges of your mind. You put the razor back and don't bother bandaging the wounds. They're shallow, more like paper cuts than anything, and only a few miniscule pearls of blood leak out.  
  
You sigh and even that makes you feel like you're about to fall out of your computer chair, so instead you prop yourself up on your elbows, close out of Pesterchum and open your web browser to do research. You weren't lying about the papers you needed to write.  
  
It's easy to focus on your homework when you're trying to avoid thinking about something else.  
  
–  
  
It's been almost two weeks since Equius's suspension, and Friday morning he's waiting at your locker alongside Nepeta. You offer a smile—it's a pretty sad excuse for one, but hey, you're trying. Things have been tense between you guys, like you're constantly on guard and they're constantly walking on egg shells. But if the way Nepeta's brow furrows and her lips tighten and the way Equius's shoulders set is any indication, they know that your mood today isn't because of them.  
  
“Hey, John,” Nepeta greets, her lips curling into a smile but her brow remaining creased, “Good morning!”  
  
“Morning,” You reply shortly.  
  
She tilts her head a little, “You alright?”  
  
You shrug. She sighs. She knows you well enough by now to know when you don't want to talk about something—at least not at school—so she shifts the conversation over to Equius's trip to the archery range last night. You laugh along with her, but your heart's not in it. It can't be when all you seem to be able to think about is Dave sitting at school getting all googly eyed over some grouchy kid you've never met.  
  
By lunch, you're so absorbed in your own thoughts that you're not even aware that Nepeta's talking to you until she lands a kick on your knee and you yelp and hop away from her. She's frowning in that almost-pouting way she has with her arms crossed.  
  
“If you're not interested in my stories you could just say so,” She says bitingly.  
  
You sigh and rub at your face, “It's not that. I've just got a lot on my mind.”  
  
“Like?”  
  
You don't respond. She growls—actually growls, what the fuck—and flops backwards onto Equius.  
  
“You are so infuriating!” She says, “You don't want to talk at school and you don't want to talk online! Where do you _want_ to talk? I mean-”  
  
She cuts herself off, her eyes wide as she sits bolt upright with a wide grin. It's such a drastic change that you lean back a little further till you feel your shoulder hit the wall behind you.  
  
“I know!” She says, “Come over tonight! You can stay over and we can watch some movies and you can talk in the privacy of our home, right Eq?”  
  
She nudges Equius, who nods, “That sounds like a fine idea. I am sure my parents will be perfectly fine with it—as long as yours are, of course.”  
  
You swallow, “Um, I- yeah, I think my dad would be alright with that.”  
  
Nepeta squeals exitedly and lunges at you, flinging her arms around your neck, “Awesome! We can watch some movies that _don't_ have any of your dumb celebrity man crushes in them so we can open your eyes to a world of quality film. This is going to be so _great!”_  
  
You're feeling a little less enthusiastic, but it's hard to be down when Nepeta gets excited.  
  
After school, Nepeta and Equius stop by your house so you can grab a change of clothes and your toothbrush and scribble down a note for your dad. You've got your cell phone on you, so if he actually has a problem with it, he can always call. When you climb back into Equius's truck, Nepeta's bouncing and prattling on about the movies she's going to make you watch.  
  
She's got her seatbelt unbuckled before Equius can put on the emergency brake once you're parked outside their house. It's large—two stories and probably bigger than your house. There's a dark green VW Beetle parked out front, which Nepeta informs you is hers as she drags you across the front lawn and up the steps onto the porch. She fishes for her keys, unlocks the front door, and loops her arm through yours to tug you inside the house.  
  
It's spacious, decorated sparsely with a few paintings you suspect are Nepeta's. She walks you through the entry way, pointing out the living room and the kitchen and one of the three bathrooms and before you can actually commit any of the rooms to memory, she's hauling you up the stairs and shouting for Equius to make popcorn.  
  
She leads you down a hallway and opens the door at the far end. The room is rather large, with a bed shoved up beneath the window, a small television mounted on the wall opposite it and a desk squashed into the far corner beside a dresser. The walls are covered with sketches and posters and it's incredibly lively and vibrant and far more interesting than your bedroom.  
  
“This is my room!” She says, hopping in and bouncing onto the bed with a grin, “If you couldn't tell by all of the drawings.”  
  
You dump your bag by the door and follow her inside, “And the cats,” You say, gesturing to her sheets as you flop down beside her.  
  
She giggles, and the two of you wait for Equius to come up with a bowl of popcorn, which she promptly snatches out of his hands before he can sit between you two.  
  
“Okay,” She says, “So, John, time to spill. What's going on with you?”  
  
You splutter a little, “I thought we were going to watch movies.”  
  
She clicks her tongue, “Movies are your reward for telling us why you were so spacey today.”  
  
You groan. You should've seen this coming, you suppose. A part of you had hoped that maybe you'd be able to work out what you would say during the first couple of movies and _then_ talk, but Nepeta wasn't known for her patience. She's turned toward you, eyes wide and lips curled up and you sigh because you really can't bear to disappoint her.  
  
“There's this guy.”  
  
You can practically see her interest skyrocketing in the way she sits up straighter and her grin grows wider.  
  
“I've known him for a few years,” you continue, “We met on Pesterchum through a mutual friend. And he's one of my best friends, you know? And there were a few times when I thought maybe I had a crush on him, but I never really thought anything of it because he lives in Texas and it was never more than a little infatuation. Nothing serious.”  
  
Nepeta nods. She's perched her elbows on her knees and is listening intently. Equius is turned toward you, but he's relaxed against the window sill. He doesn't seem perturbed by you admission to possibly liking a dude, which is one of the things that you had kind of been worried about.  
  
“But...” Nepeta says, spurring you on.  
  
“But a little while ago, he started ignoring me for a few weeks. And when he finally _stopped_ ignoring me, he told me that he was gay and he thought that I might, like, hate him for it or something. And that kind of sucked, but we got past it. And then yesterday he told me that he had a crush on some dude he goes to school with. I _should_ be happy for him, you know, but I mostly just feel kind of...off. Like everything is backwards or something and...it's just weird because it's not like I want to be in a relationship with him or something and it's not like I want him to like me because I'm not gay, I don't think I just-”  
  
You groan and scrub at your eyes, “I just don't feel like _me.”_  
  
Nepeta nods, “So...you've had a sort of maybe crush on this guy for a while, and then you found out he's gay, but he likes someone else. But _you're_ not gay.”  
  
Your cheeks burn. Wow, it sounds pretty stupid when she puts it like that. But it's not like you're trying to deny the truth or anything; you're really not gay! Guys just don't do it for you, and they never have. But Dave is just... _Dave._  
  
She flaps her hand, “John, you don't have to be gay to like a dude.”  
  
You pause. “Um. What?”  
  
“You can like a guy without being gay!” She says, “You can be straight as an arrow but still be in a relationship with a guy. Like. It's a thing that can happen, you know?”  
  
No. You really don't know.  
  
Equius interjects, “What Nepeta is trying to say is that sexuality is not a solid, concrete idea. Though you may find yourself only sexually attracted to women, thereby making you heterosexual, but that does not mean that you may not find yourself in a situation where you are attracted to a man. Sexuality is very fluid and can change and shift as time goes on.”  
  
Yeah, you're still totally lost. It must show on your face because Nepeta pipes up again.  
  
“Have you ever been attracted to other men, John? Besides this dude, I mean.”  
  
You shake your head.  
  
“But you have been attracted to girls?”  
  
You nod.  
  
“So you're heterosexual plus mystery dude. He's your exception to the rule. 'Cause you're not attracted to _men_ , you're attracted to _him.”_  
  
Huh. You let that thought sink in for a minute. It makes a certain amount of sense. Dave's the only guy you've even been remotely interested in. After you first started to toy with the idea of maybe having a throbbing heart-on for your best bro, you had made many attempts at finding other guys you found attractive. There were plenty, of course, but only objectively, never in the way that made you want to kiss them and cuddle them and hold their hands and go to the movies with them. Never in the way you felt with Dave.  
  
Nepeta tilts her head, “We won't judge you, you know,” She says, “Other people may not understand, but we do.”  
  
Equius nods along with her, “People have their minds fixed on sexuality as a solid entity, but there's nothing wrong with you for not fitting onto the binary spectrum.”  
  
You manage a smile, “Thanks guys. I...think I feel a bit better about it.”  
  
And you do. It doesn't make perfect sense and you still don't quite understand it, but regardless, Nepeta and Equius are here.  
  
The smile fades, though, as another thought hits you. One you hadn't considered before. Because yeah, now you've come to terms with the fact that you're heterosexual-plus-Dave, but that doesn't change the fact that Dave has a thing for Karkat.  
  
Karkat.  
  
Not you.  
  
A little laugh bubbles up from your throat.  
  
“I've now accepted the fact that I'm crushing on a dude who likes someone else.”  
  
Nepeta lurches across the bed to hug you.  
  
–  
  
You spend the rest of the evening watching movies and eating popcorn and drinking soda until your stomach hurts. Some of the movies are pretty good, and even the ones you don't really enjoy are made better because of the way Nepeta mouths along with the words or Equius barks out loud, wheezing laughs at jokes you don't find particularly funny.  
  
Their parents, you discover around 6 when they return from work, are a pair of men, which definitely explains why neither of them had seem bothered by your homosexual-but-not-really crush on Dave. They're surprised by your presence but not put off, and you find your arm throbbing a bit from how enthusiastically the taller of the pair—“Please, call me Horrus!”—shakes your hand. His husband, Rufioh, is a bit more subdued but no less friendly, his smile warm like your own father's.  
  
Horrus goes to make something for dinner, and he clangs around loudly in the kitchen while Rufioh takes you, Nepeta and Equius to the table to talk. The conversation revolves mostly around you, but Rufioh seems to catch on pretty easily on which subjects are a bit sore and makes an effort to steer away from those topics even when Nepeta and Equius don't seem to notice your discomfort.  
  
When Horrus returns with plates of spaghetti, he completely dominates the conversation. He's loud and boisterous like Nepeta, and though you know she's adopted, you don't doubt that his demeanor had an influence on her. Dinner is nice, and you genuinely enjoy yourself. Afterwards, the three of you return to Nepeta's room after Horrus waved you away from the dishes, insisting that he and Rufioh could handle them.  
  
You pile onto her bed for a few more movies, ending with The Aristocats because Nepeta wanted to save the best for last. None of you manage to change into pajamas and you fall asleep in a tangle of limbs and you're warm and safe and happy and you don't even think about Dave and your unrequited crush as you drift off into your dreams.  
  
You don't think you've ever been more thankful for anything than you are for Nepeta and Equius.  
  
–  
  
You wake in the middle of the night to the Pesterchum app chirping on your phone.  
  
You don't bother checking who it is, you just open the message because you're tired, dammit, and you want to sleep.  
  
-– gutsyGumshoe [GG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 03:02 –-  
EB: who is this?  
GG: Is this John?  
EB: uh, yeah.  
EB: who is this???  
GG: John Egbert.  
GG: You're John Egbert.  
EB: i am.  
EB: and i'm getting a little freaked out here.  
EB: do i know you?  
GG: I doubt it.  
GG: I just wanted to know if it was really you.  
EB: what?  
EB: who is this?  
EB: did dave put you up to this?  
GG: Who is Dave?  
EB: hey, no, you don't get to ask that when you won't even tell me who you are!  
GG: I've got to go.  
EB: wait, what?  
EB: no, tell me who you are!  
EB: how do you know who i am???  
GG: Goodbye, John.  
GG: I hope to talk to you later.  
EB: WHAT?????  
-– gutsyGumshoe [GG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 03:15 –-  
  
Okay, maybe you're not so tired after all.  
  
–  
  
\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG] at 08:22 –-  
EB: hello?  
EB: you messaged me last night.  
EB: you knew my full name.  
EB: who are you?  
EB: how do you know me?  
EB: you can't just ignore me after that!  
EB: ugh, god, this is so stupid!  
EB: just tell me who you are!  
\-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG] at 08:29 –-  
  
\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG] at 10:00 –-  
EB: i'm seriously freaking out, okay?  
EB: like, it's one thing to message me out of the blue.  
EB: it's another thing entirely to drop my full name and then leave.  
EB: that's creepy.  
EB: should i be calling the cops?  
EB: are you a stalker or something?  
EB: jesus, just message me again or something.  
EB: fuck.  
\-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG] at 10:07 –-  
  
\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG] at 07:32 –-  
EB: i'm getting a headache from pondering your existence.  
EB: could you just fucking tell me who you are?  
EB: jesus fucking christ.  
\-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG] at 07:33 –-  
  
\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG] at 09:43 -–  
EB: do you know rose?  
EB: or jade?  
EB: you said you didn't know dave, but you could've been lying, i guess.  
EB: seriously, if you know them just tell me.  
EB: i don't want to call the cops because that seems dramatic.  
EB: hellooooooooooooo?  
EB: do you even use this thing?  
EB: bluh.  
\-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG] at 09:55 –-  
  
\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG] at 11:27 –-  
EB: i swear to god you're the most stressful thing in my life right now  
EB: i do not need more stress.  
\-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG] at 11:27 -–  
  
\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG] at 06:03 –-  
EB: raghghhsdjfkldsfjds  
EB: arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh  
EB: blrurjsdfjkdslfjdsklfjd  
\-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG] at 06:05 –-  
  
How could one person be so goddamn infuriating.  
  
It's been a week, and they haven't so much as logged onto Pesterchum. It's like they dropped in to fuck with your head and then disappeared off the face of the Earth. You were starting to suspect it was Dave trying to pull one over on you, sending you a message with a fake account just to mess you up a little. It seemed like the most logical idea—also the one that didn't involve a creepy stalker scenario, which made it the preferrable idea, as well.  
  
But then, today was the day you were supposed to have your big memo party with Dave's crush, and you don't really think he'd want you all worked up before that. You're supposed to make a good impression, after all. Wouldn't want to scare off his prospective boyfriend.  
  
Okay, so maybe you would like to scare him off, but you're not that bad of a guy and that would probably only manage to get Dave pissed off at you.  
  
You spend most of the day chatting with Rose and Jade and trying to figure out what, exactly, you say to a guy you've never met who also happens to be the guy that your crush is crushing on. It's frustrating and terrifying and when Dave's invitation to the memo blinks in the corner of your screen, you're temped to close it, crawl into bed and avoid him for the rest of your life.  
  
You don't, of course, because, dammit, you have to at least try to be a good friend.  
  
\-- turntechGodhead [TG] opened a memo on board Strider's Bitches. –-  
  
-– ectoBiologist [EB] responded to memo. –-  
  
EB: strider's bitches?  
EB: is that really what you named this board.  
EB: are you serious right now.  
EB: is that honestly a thing that happened.  
TG: i didnt want to be a liar  
TG: lets face it  
TG: youre both my bitches  
TG: plain and simple  
  
\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] responded to memo. -–  
  
CG: FUCK YOU STRIDER.  
CG: I RESENT YOU AND YOUR IMPLICATION THAT I'M IN SOME WAY SUBSERVIENT TO YOU AND YOUR DICKISH PERSONA.  
EB: this is karkat?  
CG: WOW WHAT AN INCREDIBLY ASTUTE ASSUMPTION.  
CG: WHAT GAVE ME AWAY?  
CG: I'M TERRIBLY IMPRESSED AT YOUR SKILLS IN THE ART OF DEDUCTION.  
CG: HE'S REALLY AS SMART AS YOU ALWAYS SAY STRIDER.  
EB: fuck you, too, man.  
TG: whoa now guys  
CG: OH I'M SORRY DID I INSULT YOU.  
CG: I WAS UNAWARE THAT PRAISING YOUR ABILITY TO DRAW SIMPLE CONCLUSIONS AND STATE OBVIOUS FACTS WAS GOING TO INJURE YOUR FRAGILE FEELINGS  
CG: ARE ALL YOUR FRIENDS THIS EASILY OFFENDED  
EB: wow  
TG: karkat what the fuck  
CG: THIS WAS A STUPID FUCKING IDEA IN THE FIRST PLACE  
CG: WHY THE FUCK DID I EVEN AGREE TO THIS  
TG: because were friends man  
TG: and i thought you might want to meet my other friends  
EB: you were wrong, apparently  
TG: not helping john  
CG: HE DOESN'T SEEM ALL THAT THRILLED EITHER  
CG: YOU'RE A FUCKING IDIOT STRIDER WHY DID YOU THINK THIS WOULD WORK  
EB: well maybe it would've if you weren't such a fucking douche  
CG: FUCK THIS  
  
\-- CG ceased responding to memo. –-  
  
TG: fuck  
TG: sorry man  
TG: dont know whats up with him  
EB: he's charming, dave.  
EB: i can see the appeal.  
EB: from about a thousand miles away.  
EB: at the end of a stick.  
TG: hes really not that bad  
TG: just  
TG: fuck i think hes having a bad day  
EB: it's not like he's the only one  
TG: huh  
TG: dude you alright  
EB: yeah, fine.  
EB: i've gotta go.  
EB: later.  
  
\-- EB ceased responding to memo. –-  
  
TG: fuck everything  
  
\-- TG closed memo.--  
  
Well. You're certainly glad to know that you apparently rank lower than that asshole in sex appeal. Your mood's gone sour. You hope Dave doesn't try to introduce Karkat to Rose or Jade—you might just kill him if he talks to either of the girls like that.  
  
You leave your computer and rummage around in your desk until you find your copy of Sahara. It's one of your favorites—not just because of Matthew McConaughey despite Dave's insistence—and you take it downstairs with you to watch in the living room.  
  
You flop down on the couch and curl around a pillow, adjusting the volume and hitting play before setting the remote on the coffee table and settling yourself in.  
  
About halfway through, your phone alerts you to a new pester, and you open it, expecting it to be Dave.  
  
It's not.  
  
\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB]at 19:21 –-  
CG: I WAS AN ASSHOLE BEFORE.  
EB: figured that one out by yourself did you?  
CG: I'M HAVING A SHITTY DAY  
CG: SUE ME  
EB: so am i.  
EB: but that didn't make me want to insult you and call you stupid.  
EB: because i'm actually a decent person.  
CG: FUCK YOU.  
CG: I'M A DECENT PERSON TOO.  
EB: wow you really convinced me.  
EB: can you see how convinced i am.  
EB: i was so wrong about you.  
CG: CUT THE SARCASM FUCKHOLE  
CG: I'M SORRY ALRIGHT  
CG: I SHOULDN'T HAVE TAKEN MY FUCKING AWFUL DAY OUT ON YOU.  
EB: you're right you shouldn't have.  
CG: I SAID SORRY.  
EB: sorry doesn't change the fact that you're an asshole.  
CG: AND YOU'RE AN INSUFFERABLE PRICK SO I GUESS WE'RE EVEN.  
EB: at least i'm not as bad as dave.  
CG: THAT'S TRUE.  
CG: CONGRATULATIONS  
CG: YOU'RE MARGINALLY LESS INSUFFERABLE THAN DAVE STRIDER.  
EB: fuck yes.  
CG: SO ANYWAY  
CG: YEAH  
CG: UH  
CG: SORRY  
EB: did dave make you do this?  
CG: WHAT NO.  
CG: I REALIZED I WAS BEING A FUCKING DOUCHSICKLE  
CG: AND DECIDED TO APOLOGIZE  
CG: THAT'S ALL  
CG: STRIDER'S NOT MY MOM YOU KNOW  
EB: i'm aware  
EB: and since you decided to apologize  
EB: i guess i can give you my egbert seal of approval.  
EB: congratulations.  
CG: WOW I'M SO FUCKING FLATTERED  
EB: but listen  
EB: if you talk like that to jade or rose  
EB: i swear to god i'll beat the shit out of you  
CG: I'M TERRIFIED  
CG: REALLY  
CG: I'M REALLY NOT THAT BIG OF AN ASSHOLE  
CG: BUT FINE  
EB: awesome.  
EB: now i'm in the middle of a movie  
CG: IS THIS YOUR WAY OF TELLING ME TO FUCK OFF  
EB: yes exactly  
CG: FINE. THEN OFF I WILL FUCK.  
CG: GOODBYE EGBERT  
EB: later karkat  
\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 19:44 –-  
  
You still don't like him, but you suppose you can tolerate him, if only for Dave's sake. You still feel kind of insulted that he can win Dave's affections but you can't, but you're not going to be _that_ guy. If Dave wants to chase after the shouty douchebag, so be it. You're not gonna stop him.  
  
You heave a sigh, shut your phone off to inhibit further distractions, rewind the movie to the point where your focus had shifted recipients, and lose yourself in the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hrnghghgh i'm sorry


	7. Chapter 7

The next few weeks are both way too fast and agonizingly slow. You make friends with Karkat—he's not so bad once you realize that there's no bite to any of his insults and he's actually just a nice guy who likes to pretend to be a total asshole—and you talk with him as often as you do Dave and Jade and Rose. He's amusing, to say the least.  
  
Before you know it, school's almost out, you're packing for your trip to Jade's island, and you've been invited to Equius's graduation party. You hadn't even known he was a senior; you'd just kind of assumed that he was a junior alongside you and Nepeta. The actual graduation ceremony is family only, which seems a little odd, but Nepeta insists that you come to the party the Sunday after since she and Equius are leaving for his graduation trip on Monday.  
  
So you find yourself sitting in a lawn chair in their back yard, watching them converse with family and friends who were all complete strangers to you. It's a little awkward, to say the least. Not to mention uncomfortable because the sun is beating down on you and you're stuffed inside a sweatshirt.  
  
You heave a sigh and flop back in the chair, fiddling idly with the straw of the Italian soda that Horrus had all but forced into your hand. You couldn't say no to him when he was grinning and bouncing in elation and insisting that his Italian sodas were simply the best in the world.  
  
You don't have the heart to tell him that you don't much care for Italian sodas, especially when they're more cream than soda. Far too sweet for your tastes after years of avoiding the sweets your father offered. So you nurse it as you watch the party go on around you, taking miniscule sips and hoping that Horrus won't notice and take offense.  
  
Nepeta's over chatting with a pair of rather somber looking adults and Equius is awkwardly handling a very inebriated woman who has her arm flung around his shoulder and is leaning quite heavily onto him. You smile at the irony of their situations and pay little heed to what's going on around you, so when Rufioh takes the seat next to you, you don't realize he's there until he speaks.  
  
“Too sweet for you?”  
  
You jump, twisting around to face him. He chuckles at your surprise and gestures to your drink.  
  
“Oh,” You say, your cheeks heating, “Yeah. I'm not a big fan of sweets.”  
  
“Horrus adores them,” Rufioh says, “He sometimes forgets that not everyone shares his tastes. He won't be hurt if you don't drink it; it takes quite a bit to hurt his feelings.”  
  
You chuckle a little and set the drink aside, alleviating your taste buds from the sugary assault.  
  
“So, any plans for the summer?”  
  
“Yeah, actually! Tuesday after school I'm flying out to spend a few weeks with my internet friends.”  
  
Rufioh raises his eyebrows, “Internet friends, huh? You sure that's safe?”  
  
“Safe enough. We've been doing it since we were thirteen—and our parents came with the first time,” You smile, “Scouts honor.”  
  
He laughs, “I believe you.”  
  
You fall into a comfortable silence, both of you watching the party going on around you. You like Rufioh. He reminds you a lot of dad—if dad had a red-tipped mowhawk and sold records.  
  
After a few moments, he speaks again.  
  
“I'm glad Nepeta and Equius have you.”  
  
Your brow furrows a little, “Why?”  
  
He sighs and leans back, dragging a hand through his hair before rubbing the back of his neck. He looks tired, and you wonder briefly if this is how dad looks when he talks to other people about you.  
  
“Most of their friends are on the internet,” he explains, “And they've always had each other, of course but they've never had any other friends. None that they'd bring home, anyway.”  
  
He turns and smiles at you, “I'm glad they trust you so much.”  
  
There's a darkness to his smile, a shadow beneath it that you recognize too easily.  
  
“They had it rough, didn't they?” You ask, “Before you guys adopted them?”  
  
Rufioh tenses suddenly. His eyes search your face for a moment before his smile fades and his eyes fall.  
  
“Yeah,” He says quietly, “They did. When we first adopted Equius, he wouldn't _move_ without permission. And Nepeta...well, she didn't talk at all, not for the first few years, believe it or not. Equius was the one who finally managed to break her out of her shell, and so they've always been inseparable. I sometimes worried that they were a little too dependent on each other, you know? That they wouldn't make any other friends. And then you came along.”  
  
He smiles at you again, but it's not as sad as it was before. Your chest feels warm, and you look over at Nepeta and Equius, now talking animatedly with each other. You hadn't really thought that you might've been good for them, too, like they were for you. But you're glad you can do something.  
  
As if sensing your gaze, Nepeta turns and waves at you. She knocks her elbow against Equius's and nods toward you before tugging him toward you. She bounces over and drapes herself across your lap, hooking an arm around your neck.  
  
“Having fun?” she asks, “Dad's not bothering you is he?”  
  
Rufioh scoffs and you smile.  
  
“Nah, man. We were just talking about my summer plans.”  
  
“Oh yeah! Loverboy's coming tomorrow, right?”  
  
Your face burns, “His name's Dave, Nepeta. And Rose is coming, too!”  
  
Nepeta giggles and waggles her eyebrows, “Spending the night with the man you love! So scandalous!”  
  
You make a disgruntled noise and cover your face, sinking back against the chair. Telling Nepeta about your crush was a mistake, a huge mistake that you regret every time she uses it against you. She laughs, wriggling her fingers under your hands and prying them from your face. She leans forward and kisses your nose,  
  
“You're so cute when you're flustered. Isn't he cute, dad?”  
  
Rufioh shakes his head, “Nepeta, leave the poor boy be.”  
  
“But he's so adorable,” she coos, prodding at your cheeks. You swat at her hands and pull a face and she continues to giggle as she sags against you.  
  
Rufioh excuses himself and Equius takes his seat.  
  
The three of you hang out and talk since it'll be the last time for a few weeks that you're going to be able to do so in person. The party winds down around you, but you stay outside even after all the tables and chairs have been packed up, all of you sprawled out on the grass together. Nepeta's snuggled into your side and your head's on Equius's abdomen and you realize that, for the first time in four years, you're going to have a reason to want to come home after the meet up.  
  
“You guys are the best, you know that?” You say.  
  
Nepeta cranes her neck and kisses your cheek, “You're not too bad yourself.”  
  
–  
  
You get home around midnight, and your dad's already asleep. You probably shouldn't have stayed out so late since you still have to go to school tomorrow, but it's not like you're going to be able to sleep, anyway, not knowing that Rose and Dave are going to be here tomorrow.  
  
You slink into your bedroom and flop onto your bed only to realize that your computer is chirping at you. A frown on your lips, you stand and wander over, finding baby blue text glaring at you from the pesterlog window. You pause.  
  
Then it hits you and you remember that weird pester you'd gotten before, from the person who had never messaged you back.  
  
\-- gutsyGumshoe [GG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 00:12 –-  
GG: John?  
GG: Hello?  
EB: you!  
EB: it's been weeks!  
EB: what the fuck?  
GG: I'm sorry!  
GG: I know I freaked you out and I'm really sorry but I couldn't message you back.  
EB: why not??  
EB: who ARE you?  
GG: Ugh, it's complicated, and I can't get into it.  
GG: And my name is Jane.  
EB: jane?  
EB: really???  
EB: that's the most generic name in the book.  
GG: Oh, like John is so much better.  
GG: My name is Jane, sorry if it doesn't please you!  
EB: hey, don't get mad at me!  
EB: YOU messaged ME, remember.  
GG: I know!  
GG: I wanted to talk to you because I've heard a lot about you!  
EB: from who?  
GG: Whom.  
EB: what?  
GG: From whom, not from who.  
EB: does that really matter?  
GG: Yes, it actually does.  
GG: Grammar is important.  
EB: thank you very much, ms. jane, are you going to teach me math next?  
GG: Blarg!  
GG: You're so annoying.  
EB: it's not like you have to talk to me  
GG: But I want to.  
EB: why?  
GG: It's kind of complicated.  
EB: is everything complicated with you?  
GG: Yes, actually!  
EB: great.  
EB: so...  
EB: what did you want to talk about  
GG: Well, I don't know.  
GG: Um...  
GG: What do you like to...  
GG: Do?  
EB: uh  
EB: i do a little programming  
EB: and magic tricks  
EB: and pranks!  
GG: Oh, pranks!  
GG: I prank, too!  
GG: I love pranks!  
EB: me, too!  
EB: my dad and i have prank wars all the time.  
GG: My mom doesn't really like pranks.  
GG: They remind her too much of dad.  
EB: oh...  
EB: did your dad...?  
GG: Yeah, he passed when I was little.  
EB: i'm sorry :(  
EB: my mom died when i was a kid, too  
GG: I'm sorry, too.  
GG: The world's harsh.  
EB: yeah...  
GG: Oh.  
GG: Oh, goodness, I have to go.  
GG: I don't know when I'll be able to message you again.  
EB: why?  
EB: what's going on?  
GG: I'm sorry, John!  
GG: Bye!  
EB: wait!  
\-- gutsyGumshoe [GG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 00:47 -–  
  
Okay, so that was weird.  
  
You drag your fingers through your hair and read through the conversation again.  
  
Jane, huh?  
  
Your stomach twists and you wonder why, exactly she had to go so suddenly and why you give a shit. Jane might be some creepy forty year-old man trying to gain your trust. Jane could be a murderer! You've only spoken to her twice—over the Internet!  
  
You have no reason to care; you've got plenty else to worry about besides strangers on the Internet who mysteriously know your name and want to know more about you.  
  
That should be creepy. You should be creeped out.  
  
But you're not. You somehow want to talk to her, to get to know her, to figure out who she is.  
  
You groan and shove away from your desk. You don't need to think about this now.  
  
You strip out of your clothes and crawl into bed in your boxers. You're not going to sleep tonight, at least not a lot, but you might as well try.  
  
–  
  
School drags by the next day. You send Nepeta and Equius messages you know they won't receive until their plane lands and spend most of your time with your head down on the desks because it's the second-to-last day of school and no one's doing anything. You wonder how you managed to get through the school days before, when you had no friends to message and dick around with.  
  
You spend lunch alone in the empty stairwell, stretched across the bottom step with your phone balanced on your forehead. No one was answering today—Nepeta and Equius were on a plane, Dave and Rose were probably getting _ready_ to get on their planes, Jade was probably still asleep, and Karkat was probably hanging out with his girlfriend. Which left you lonesome and bored out of your wits.  
  
Dad had offered to let you skip the last couple days of school, but you figured that the wait would be even more agonizing at home with no distractions.  
  
Biology is manageable. Ms. Maryam informs you that she'll be absent tomorrow and hands you a book, telling you that it was part of the required reading in her college Biology classes and she enjoyed it quite a bit. You thank her for it and spend the rest of your classes reading the first few chapters.  
  
School finally— _finally_ —ends and you haul ass out of there. You need to get home, make sure everything is packed, spend the next hour and a half killing time on the internet till your dad takes you to pick up your best friends from the airport. Rose had flown into Texas and the pair of them were on the same flight to Sea-Tac airport.  
  
You're almost off school property and home free when a hand falls on the back of your throat and squeezes. You seize up, making an embarrassing noise of surprise. The grip is too tight for you to turn, and whoever has a hold of you isn't talking. You stand there, shoulders hunched and heart pounding for what feels like forever before there's a voice crooning in your ear.  
  
“Hey, Bucks.”  
  
Your entire body jerks. Shit, _them_ again.  
  
“In a hurry?” The guy continues as one of his friends comes into view, “Why don't you stay a while? Hang with us?”  
  
“Nah, I-I have things to do. Important things.” You hate how your voice cracks and breaks and quivers, how you stutter over your words. You're scared. You don't want to admit it, but you're terrified.  
  
They ignore you, of course; you never really expected you to listen. The hand leaves your neck, and you see the split second opportunity to run, but you miss it like the idiot you are. Because then one of them has a hand around your shoulder and they're crowded around you and leading you away from the parking lot, away from the adults, the other students, _safety._  
  
The arm is heavy around your shoulder, weighing you down like lead. Your feet feel sluggish and every time you stumble, they shove and jeer and jostle you. Your head is spinning and your twisting stomach is making you nauseous. Then you're being slammed into a wall in a little alcove in the back wall of the school. They planned this, you realize. Everyone's going to be headed home because for a lot of kids, this is the last day of school—if their parents don't make them go, they've got no reason to spend a few hours at school doing nothing tomorrow. And if anyone happens to be wandering around the school, they'll only be able to see you if they're right at the mouth of the alcove.  
  
You think you're going to be sick.  
  
“Your boyfriend's not around, huh?”  
  
The guy in front of you's got a mop of red hair and a spattering of freckles. His grin is lopsided and his teeth are crooked and you think that he's the kind of guy that Dave would write insulting raps about. That makes you smile a little, which was definitely the wrong thing to do.  
  
He slams his forearm against your chest, forcing you harshly back into the wall, “Get that fucking smile off your face, faggot. How many times did you have to suck his dick to thank him for breaking my fucking nose?”  
  
That explains why his nose sits funny on his face. You'd just kind of assumed that he was born like that.  
  
When a fist is drilled into your stomach and the air is forced from your lungs, you realize that you'd been thinking aloud. The blows don't stop from there. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to shut it out, try to ignore your shaking limbs, the sounds that slither from between your clenched teeth. You ignore the insults they snap at you, the names. You think about something else, anything else.  
  
You think of Rose's quiet laughter. You think of Jade's one dimple on her left cheek that she always tries to cover out of embarrassment. You think of the first meet up, waking up that first night to see Dave, cooler-than-you Dave with wild bed hair, mumbling sleepily about kawaii smuppets.  
  
You remember Nepeta curled on your lap, practically purring as you watched your favorite movies. You remember Equius showing you one of his robots, how he'd explained all of the mechanics to you with a grin on his face and his hands flying around along with his words.  
  
You think about your friends until the blows stop and you hear a sharp click. You open your eyes again, thankful that at least your glasses survived this time and- _oh fucking shit he's got a knife._  
  
You make an aborted noise in your throat and thrash. But they've got ahold of your arms and you're trapped and, oh god, they're going to kill you. They're going to kill you just a few hours before you were going to see your friends again.  
  
“Gotta make sure you remember us,” The red-heared guy says, “Not gonna see you all summer, Bucky. Can't have you forgetting all about us. Lift his shirt, guys.”  
  
You ask them to stop, beg them, but they've got a grip on the hem of your sweatshirt and they're shoving it up, exposing your stomach. They all stop, then, and stare. They stare because you've got scars along your stomach and and darkening the sharp points of your hips.  
  
Then Freckles laughs. Loud, barking laughs that shake his entire body, and his buddies join in. Your face is practically on fire, and you can feel the flush creeping down your neck.  
  
“Get his shirt off,” One of the other guys says, “C'mon.”  
  
They wrestle you out of your sweatshirt and tee-shirt. The wall is harsh and grating against the bare skin of your back and they're examining your arms, laughing amongst themselves like you're some big joke. Which, you suppose you are.  
  
“The freak's already done the work for us!” Freckles wheezes, “Jesus, what a psycho! Look at this shit!”  
  
He folds the knife up again and shoves it into his back pocket, dragging a hand through his hair as his laughter subsides. “C'mon, guys, let's get out of here. Asshole's done enough work on himself.”  
  
They leave and take your shirts with you. You try to protest, to call them back because you need those, you can't just go walking around with your scars out for everyone to see. But they're gone and you're alone and exposed and you hurt. You sink down and try not to look at your arms and your stomach. You try not to think about your own scars, about how they'd laughed at them, at you. This is why you wanted to keep it a secret.  
  
You don't have much choice now.  
  
You stay on the ground till your shaking subsides. You drape your bag over your shoulder and stand again. You cross your arms over your stomach, trying to cover as many of the scars as you can manage. You still get looks. You can hear the whispers as you drag your feet along the concrete, you can feel the eyes raking your body.  
  
You're humiliated. You don't even care about the ache that thrums through your entire body like a plucked guitar string with every step. You don't care that you can feel your own heartbeat in the throbbing bruises on your chest and stomach. You've been stripped bare and left for the world to see.  
  
At least they left you your jeans as the last shred of your dignity.  
  
Your home seems to get farther away with every step you take toward it. The panic is building in your chest, cold and unforgiving. It squeezes at your lungs and makes your muscles coil and tighten till it's hard to move. By the time you stumble into your lawn, your vision is splotchy and you're not really breathing—it's more of a ragged wheeze and you don't think any of the oxygen is actually making it to your lungs. You fumble for your key, but your hands are shaking too much and your head is spinning and your knees give out.  
  
You're curled in on yourself on the ground, shaking and trembling and, oh, oh god, you're going to die here. Those guys didn't kill you, but you're still going to die because you can't breathe. You can't _breathe_ and you think your heart is pounding because you hear _something_ , something loud and rushing in your ears, drilling into your skull at a rapid, stuttering pace. You're drowning. You have to be because the world is closing in and everything is too heavy and no matter how hard you try to breathe you can't, you can't.  
  
You're going to miss Dave and Rose. They're going to stand in the airport and wait for you to pick them up and they'll pester you and text you and call you but you won't answer. Your dad will come home from work and find you on the porch and you can only imagine how he'll look. How devastated he'll be, losing his only son, the only piece of his wife he has. You don't want to do that to him. You don't want to do that to anyone.  
  
You've got to stop this. You've got to breathe.  
  
How do you stop this, though?  
  
What _is_ this?  
  
Your phone sings from your pocket and you have a brief moment of clarity. You gasp in a breath while you can, and your brain supplies helpfully that you're having a panic attack, that's what this is.  
  
Shit.  
  
How do you stop a panic attack?  
  
You remember Rose telling you something when you'd had one at her house at the meet up last year, and as your throat closes again, as the terror claws into your lungs, you try to conjure her voice, try to recall what she'd said.  
  
 _“A panic attack can't hurt you, John. It can't kill you. You'll be fine. You can breathe. Just think about something calming. Don't think about the panic. You'll be fine.”_  
  
Your eyes are already shut, but you squeeze them tighter. You're okay. It's in your head. Your jaw tightens and your heart rate doesn't slow, but you don't think about it. You think about your friends and about your dad and about the smell of cakes wafting from the kitchen when your dad bakes and the comfortable weight of Nepeta when she's sprawled on your lap. Your gasps turn to hiccuping sobs and your chest isn't so tight and your throat isn't closed and your breathing is labored but open and you could cry from the relief that floods your veins.  
  
You still can't move, so you lay on your porch until your heart beat isn't so erratic. No one's come outside or walked by to notice you, and you're so fucking grateful for that. Your dad wouldn't let you go anywhere if some neighbor blabbed to him that you'd had a break down on the porch.  
  
When you feel you're able, you stand on quivering legs and find the keys you'd dropped. You unlock the door and step inside and, Jesus, you're tired. You want to curl up on the couch and fall asleep, but you know you can't. You need to do something about these bruises before you pick up Rose and Dave. First, though, you stuff yourself into another sweater, and the feeling of exposure flees.  
  
You walk into the bathroom and inspect your reflection. They'd hit you twice in the face. Once on your nose—likely as payback—and once along your jaw. Your nose's bruising is worse. It stretches from the bridge down into the corners of your eyes and a little prodding sends pain all the way down into your collar bone. Your jaw's bruise isn't so bad, flowering just along the curve. It's small but just as painful.  
  
Shit. This is going to be a bitch to cover up.  
  
–  
  
An hour and a half later, you look mostly decent. You'd found an old stash of make up in the hall closet, one you'd used when you'd been roped into being an extra for the school play your freshman year. The cover up is gross and it feels disgusting as you smear it over your bruises, but it does its job. The spots are a little discolored, a little off, but you don't think anyone will notice unless they're looking.  
  
You really, really hope that Dave and Rose won't be looking.  
  
Your entire body protests as you walk down the stairs, but you ignore it because, shit, you're going to be late. You climb into your car and you probably speed quite a bit on your way to the airport, thanking whatever higher power there might be that there's little traffic and no ticket-hungry cops. You arrive as the plane's landing and breathe a sigh of relief. Who knows how much shit Dave would give you if you made him wait.  
  
You hover anxiously by the luggage carousel, craning your neck to search for Rose's platinum blonde hair or Dave's signature shades. You sit and then you stand; you shift from foot to foot and check your watch and your phone and-  
  
Oh, Nepeta texted you. That must've been why your phone went off during your episode. She says that they landed and there's a snapshot of her and Equius standing in at LAX, grinning widely at the camera. You're about to text back since you'd been too preocuppied covering up bruises to do it before, when a familiar voice catches your ear and sends a little shiver down your spine.  
  
“You get shorter, John? I swear you were taller last year.”  
  
You shove your phone in your pocket and lift your eyes and, yep, that's Dave. Dave who was definitely not that tall the last time you saw him.  
  
“Dude,” You groan, “No way—you had another growth spurt?”  
  
He grins and reaches a hand to muss your hair, and that's really not fair because you'd have to stretch to do the same to him. Other than apparently shooting up in height again, he hasn't changed much. He's still got the same shaggy hair cut and those dumb glasses you'd bought him for his birthday. But he's in a tee-shirt and shorts which makes you want to laugh because no matter how many times he's come to Seattle, he always forgets that Seattle summers are about on par with Texas winters.  
  
“You're never getting taller, man,” He says, sliding smoothly to stand at your side and propping an elbow on top of your head, “By the way, you're totally sitting next to Lalonde tomorrow. No way can I take five more hours of her explaining to me the psychological reasoning behind the fact that I like the color red.”  
  
You snort, “I think it's a self defense mechanism. She knows that if she stops talking, you'll start in with your shitty raps, and no one wants that.”  
  
“Whatever man,” He shoves at you a little before stopping and staring at your face, “Are you wearing makeup?”  
  
Your heart nearly stops. _Play it off, play it off, play it off._  
  
You bat your eyelashes and pucker your lips a bit, “Got a problem? It makes me pretty.”  
  
There's a moment of silence, then,  
  
“Hey, man, to each his own. Just don't expect me to sit still if you try to give me a make over.”  
  
“Make overs? That sounds interesting, may I join?”  
  
 _“Rose!”_  
  
You practically launch yourself at her, flinging your arms around her neck and she chuckles, returning the embrace a little more calmly.  
  
“Took you long enough, Lalonde,” Dave says behind you, “Need to smear another layer of black on your lips?”  
  
“Sorry,” Rose replies without skipping a beat, “I had to give my vaccinations—I'm going to be in close proximity to you for a while and I didn't want to catch any Pretentious Prick.”  
  
You laugh loudly and Dave flushes a little under his shades, scowling and grumbling something insulting as he marches toward the carousel to get his stuff. Rose puts an arm around you and the two of you follow.  
  
“Aren't you warm?” She asks, eying your sweatshirt, “I know how Seattle can be, but it's fairly sunny out.”  
  
You shrug, ignoring the lump in your throat, “Don't wanna get caught unawares. The weather can change pretty quickly.”  
  
That's bullshit and you know it. There hasn't been a cloud in the sky all day.  
  
Rose knows it, too, if the crease in her brow and the frown on her lips are indicators. Dave meets you halfway, his and Rose's suitcases dragging behind him. He shoves Rose's into her waiting hands and announces that he's starving.  
  
“Dad left me some money,” You say, “We can grab McDonalds or something.”  
  
“Sounds good to me.”  
  
You walk them out to your car, and you can feel Rose's gaze on you the entire way.  
  
This is going to be a long few weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my writing is shitty and i am sorry (╥_╥)


	8. Chapter 8

“John.”  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
 _“John.”_  
  
“Shut _up.”_  
  
 _“John!”_  
  
A piece of popcorn clips your nose and you make a loud, frustrated noise. Dave's sprawled on the floor with a bowl of popcorn beside him, his chest littered with kernels that he'd attempted to toss into his mouth. He's failed spectacularly, of course. No surprise there.  
  
But now he's resorted to flinging popcorn your way, and you honestly think you're going to kill him.  
  
 _“What,_ Dave?” You snap, taking the popcorn and tossing it back at him, grinning triumphantly when it glances off the lens of his shades.  
  
“This movie,” He says, “It sucks. Hardcore. Like, headbutt a rock and make the rock bleed hardcore. Like one of those heavy metal concerts where the guitarist rocks too hard and splits the singer's head open and the concert doesn't even pause and all the fans bathe in the girl's blood. That's how hardcore this movie's sucking is. Like-”  
  
“Shut up, Dave. This is my favorite part and you're not going to ruin it with your rambling,” You snap, “Besides, Rose doesn't have a problem with it.”  
  
Dave scoffs, “Rose also writes wizard porn and reads books about giant tentacle monsters that suck your soul out through your asshole. I don't think her opinion is particularly relevant.”  
  
You aim a kick at his hip to shut him up. He retaliates by throwing an entire handful of popcorn at you. He opens his mouth and you figure he's about to start another rant, but Rose stops him before he can start.  
  
“David, we are guests in John's home. He enjoys this movie, I enjoy this movie, and you would do well to be quiet and respectful lest I go to Mr. Egbert's study and inform him that you're upsetting his son. Or I could, of course, call your brother.”  
  
Dave falls silent, and you smile gratefully at her.  
  
Your viewing of Armageddon is once again interrupted, though, when you receive a lapful of Strider. He flops down on top of you, his cheek pressed to the curve of your neck and his chest fitted against yours. One of his legs is stretched across Rose's lap, and the other is hooked over yours and dangling off the couch.  
  
“Dave!” You squeak, voice embarrassingly high, “Get _off.”_  
  
“No,” He shifts a little, “Jesus, bro, you're bony as fuck.”  
  
“Well sorry that I don't have a brother who takes time to fight with me every day. All my dad does is bake cakes.”  
  
Dave grumbles, rolling onto his side a little to jab at your stomach, “Yeah, so why aren't you nice and soft?”  
  
“Because I don't _eat_ them, dumbass.”  
  
“Whatever.”  
  
He doesn't move, and Rose doesn't seem inclined to help you make him, so you resign yourself to your fate. You don't really mind, but his weight is irritating the cuts on your stomach. You'll just disinfect them again later.  
  
Armageddon ends, and Dave stubbornly refuses to move, so Rose picks the next movie.  
  
Dave groans loudly, “The Notebook? Really?”  
  
“If you want to pick a different movie, get off your ass and do it.”  
  
He mumbles something incoherent into your shoulder and doesn't say anymore. You watch movies until Dave's snoring softly and Rose is dozing against the arm of the couch. You very carefully extricate yourself from the tangle of Dave's wiry limbs, rousing Rose in the process. Dave doesn't even stir.  
  
“What time is it?” Rose asks as she climbs to her feet.  
  
“Almost one,” You reply, “I've got school tomorrow, but you two can sleep in.”  
  
“Mmkay.”  
  
You let her go up the stairs first, your hands hovering a little ways behind her because she's swaying enough to make you worry she might fall. At the top of the stairs, she mumbles goodnight before going to her the guest room. You go to your own room and shuck your pants, pulling on a pair of sweats instead. You keep the sweatshirt on because you're definitely not risking Dave sneaking into your bedroom for god knows what and seeing your scars.  
  
You're settling onto your bed when you hear a knock at your door.  
  
“Uh, hello?”  
  
“It's Rose. Can I come in?”  
  
You swallow thickly. “Uh, yeah. Yeah sure.”  
  
Rose slips inside quietly. She's changed into a pair of squiddle-patterened sleep shorts and a tank top, and she's carrying a small plastic package. She pads across the room and sits beside you on the bed.  
  
“Make up wipes,” She says, lifting the package a little, “If you don't take off that cover up it'll stain your pillow case. May I?”  
  
You hesitate, but you know she won't relent. You nod a little and she peels away the cover, plucking a wipe out. She's gentle, like she knows there are bruises beneath the make up. You don't doubt that she does. Stroke by stroke, the make up transfers from your nose and cheeks to the wipes. She's used five by the time she's finished with your nose.  
  
There's a furrow in her brow that only deepens as she cleans your jaw.  
  
“John,” She says quietly, “Was this the same people who did it before?”  
  
You nod, “Equius, he...he broke the guy's nose. So...”  
  
She nods and continues cleaning the make up off. Guilt burns inside you because she looks so fucking sad and you're the one who made her look like that. When she finishes, you direct her to the trash can by your bed, where she dumps the used wipes. You expect her to leave, to return back to her bedroom and leave you be.  
  
Instead, she walks back over again and sits next to you, hands reaching to find the hem of your sweatshirt at either side of your hips. You freeze, every muscle in your body seizing as your breathing quickens.  
  
“Let me see,” She whispers, “Please.”  
  
Shaking, you nod and help her take your sweatshirt off, then your tee-shirt after that.  
  
“Oh, John,” She breathes, fingers skirting along the scars on your arms.  
  
You wait for her to recoil in disgust. She's seen the scars before, but not like this. When she saw them at last year's meet-up, they were just thin scars up and down your arms and lined across your upper thighs. Now they were deep, gouging cuts that left thick ropes of white webbed around your arms and along your hips and down to your knees. Some weren't healed completely, standing out as puckered pink lines, and some had barely started healing at all, leaving them as dark scabs.  
  
“I'm sorry,” Rose says, “I should have said something...when you started acting strangely, I should have...”  
  
She lurches forward, throwing her arms around your neck and hugging you tightly. You're stunned for a moment before you return the embrace shakily, arms sliding around her waist. She's shaking like a leaf, breaths coming in rattly, uneven gasps.  
  
You rub her back in slow circles, “Rose, it's not your fault. There was...there was nothing you could've done. You couldn't have known just because I was acting weid.”  
  
She doesn't reply, just clings tighter.  
  
You hold her as she trembles and think that it would be better if you weren't around to cause problems for your friends.  
  
When Rose jerks backwards with wide eyes, you realize that you were thinking aloud.  
  
“John, no,” She says, “No, don't think like that.”  
  
Her fingers brush your bangs away from your forehead and she leans forward to press her forehead to yours, “You're one of my best friends—and Dave's and Jade's. We want you here.”  
  
You nod mutely and she leans back again with a small smile despite her red-rimmed eyes and the tears shining in them.  
  
“I'm going to go to bed,” She murmurs, “Goodnight, John.”  
  
“'Night,” you mumble, and she stands and crosses the room, silently slipping out the door and leaving you on your own.  
  
You feel raw and exposed. You pull your sweatshirt back on and push your tee-shirt onto the floor before diving under the covers and curling on your side. You're exhausted, emotionally drained, and you wish that Rose hadn't seen, hadn't known.  
  
You shut your eyes, ignore the thoughts buzzing in your head, and sleep.  
  
–  
  
Six comes way too early.  
  
The buzzing of your alarm clock is like an icepick drilling into your ear, and you come awake with a loud groan, fumbling to shut it off. Sitting up, you drag your hand across your aching eyes, only remembering the bruise when your entire face flares with a burning sort of pain.  
  
You kick your feet out from your blankets and stand. You don't bother grabbing your glasses, heading straight for the door. You pad down the hallway to the bathroom, take a piss and brush your teeth, and you're headed back up to your room to get dressed when a voice calls from the bottom of the stairs,  
  
“Yo, John, that you?”  
  
Dave's head peeks around the corner, and his shadeless eyes meet yours. For a moment, you just stare at each other, then his eyes shift downwards and you know he's looking at your bruise. They move to your jaw then back up to your eyes.  
  
His jaw sets, “Who did that?”  
  
You frown, crossing your arms defensively, “One guess.”  
  
Dave heaves a sigh that sound a bit like a growl and he starts up the stairs. He reaches the top and stands in front of you. His thumb ghosts across the bruise on your nose and you shiver, and then his fingers curl at the curve of your jaw. His lips are pressed into a tight line, his eyes dark and unreadable, and you don't know what he's thinking anymore than you would if he was wearing his sunglasses.  
  
“Well, you're definitely not going to school,” He says, “Go back to bed, bro. Sleep in for a few more hours.”  
  
“Dave, I can't just skip-”  
  
“Your dad's cool; he won't mind. It's the last day of school; not like you'll be doing shit. Back to bed, Egbert.”  
  
“No, I- _Dave!”_  
  
Dave had crouched down and caught you by the waist, hefting you over his shoulder. You flail a little, which makes him wobble and sends your stomach plummeting down to your toes. Okay, struggling's not a good idea. You grab at the back of his shirt, clinging tightly as he walks toward your room.  
  
“Cut it out, asshole. Put me down! I'm not a sack of potatoes!”  
  
“If you prefer, I could carry you like you're my beautiful bride,” Dave snarks, and you really want to punch him in the face. He drops you on your bed, climbs in after you and manhandles you around so you're back is against his chest, his arms are braced around you, and you're between him and the wall, effectively trapping you.  
  
“Better, princess?” He asks.  
  
You jam your elbow into his ribs, “Bite me.”  
  
And he fucking _does._ You squeak and thrash and he laughs.  
  
“Cool it, John. Go to sleep. Platonic bro cuddles aren't going to kill you.”  
  
With the way your heart's pounding, they just might. But Dave's weirdly warm and it's not all that uncomfortable and you're drifting back into sleep before you can find it in yourself to protest.  
  
–  
  
When you wake up again, dad's standing in your doorway with a smile on his face. He'd taken the day off today so he could drive you to the airport; that way your car wouldn't have to sit in the lot by itself for three weeks.  
  
“Morning, son,” he says, “I called the school to excuse you, and I made breakfast. Rose is already in the kitchen. Wake Mr. Strider and join us, if you would?”  
  
“Yeah, sure, dad.”  
  
He nods, waves and leaves.  
  
At some point in the night, you'd rolled over onto your back and Dave had managed to latch onto you, his arms tight around your shoulders and his legs coiled around your waist. The guy's ridiculously cuddly.  
  
“Dave,” You mumble, “Dave wake up.”  
  
He makes an irritated noise and his limbs tighten around you in response. He's definitely awake.  
  
You wiggle as much as you can, “Dave, my dad made breakfast. I don't care if you starve, but you could at least let go so that _I_ can eat.”  
  
He huffs against your shoulder.  
  
“You were the one complaining that I was too bony, dickwad. Now get off of me.”  
  
Finally he releases you and you sit up and stretch your stiff limbs. You stretch your back and crawl over him. You grab your glasses and push them on your face before leaving him sprawled in your bed while you go to the kitchen.  
  
Rose smiles at you when you enter through the swinging doors, “I wasn't invited to your platonic cuddling, huh?”  
  
Heat floods your face, “It's not like I had much choice. Blame Dave.”  
  
“Fer what?”  
  
Dave wanders in, running his fingers through his messy hair, shades in place over his eyes.  
  
“I'm feeling left out,” Rose says, “You two looked so comfortable this morning all cuddled up to each other.”  
  
Dave's face colors a little and your stomach flips, “Shut it, Rose. Looks can be deceiving. John's all skin and bones. Like sleepin' with a pillowcase full of rocks. You didn't miss much.”  
  
You ignore how that makes your chest tighten, instead walking over to your dad and accepting the plate of bacon and eggs he offers. You go sit next to Rose, leaning over to whisper loudly in her ear with every intention of having Dave hear,  
  
“I wouldn't recommend cuddling with Dave, either. It's like getting into a bed with a boa constrictor.”  
  
Rose giggles and Dave sneers at you, getting his own plate and sitting huffily across from you and Rose.  
  
The morning is a rush of dressing, arguing over bathroom rights—“Dave, you do not need an hour. We don't _have_ an hour.”—double checking bags and panicking over missing items before finding them again, and assuring your dad that, yes, you have your inhaler, yes, you have your cell phone, yes, you'll call as soon as you land in Hawaii.  
  
When everyone's finally ready, you, Rose, and Dave pile into the back of your dad's car, and you're wedged between Rose and Dave because Dave refuses to sit next to her.  
  
At the airport, you hug your dad through the window and he reminds you to call. You get your tickets and check in your bags without a hitch, but security's a nightmare. After he takes off his sunglasses, Dave refuses to open his eyes, so you have to hold his arm and lead him so he doesn't hurt anyone. He snarks at the security officers and gets himself pulled aside for a lecture, so you and Rose have to grab his stuff and wait for twenty minutes.  
  
“You are an idiot,” You inform him when the three of you finally make it to your terminal and flop down into the chairs there, “An idiot is you.”  
  
Dave shrugs, “The guy was an asshole. I was doing my civic duty.”  
  
You roll your eyes and slouch in your seat. Rose is reading and Dave's pulled out a notebook in which he's scribbling down what you assume is another one of his stupid raps, so you pull out your phone to dick around till boarding begins.  
  
You've got a pester.  
  
\-- gutsyGumshoe [GG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 12:03 –-  
GG: John?  
GG: Hello?  
GG: John, please answer, this is important.  
EB: jane?  
EB: i thought you weren't going to be able to message me for a while.  
GG: I can't explain right now, John, I'm so sorry.  
GG: Are you home?  
EB: uh, no?  
GG: Okay, um, are you going to be home today?  
EB: not for three weeks...  
EB: why?  
GG: Oh, thank god.  
EB: jane what's going on?  
GG: I can't explain!  
GG: I'm sorry, John!  
EB: jane, you have to.  
EB: my dad's at home right now!  
GG: Your dad will be fine, John.  
GG: I just needed to know that you're not home.  
EB: i'm not.  
EB: i won't be home for almost a month.  
GG: Okay.  
GG: Okay.  
GG: I have to go.  
EB: you can't keep doing this!!  
GG: I'm so sorry, John, this is all my fault.  
\-- gutsyGumshoe [GG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 12:12 –-  
  
“Who's that?”  
  
Dave's practically draped over your shoulder, staring at your screen, and Rose is leaning toward you to read it, too.  
  
“I don't know,” You say, “Her name's Jane, apparently. She messaged me a while ago out of the blue. She knew my name and wanted to know more about me?”  
  
Dave's brow furrows, “Did you tell her?”  
  
You don't respond.  
  
“Shit, man, don't you know anything about internet safety? She could be a fuckin' serial killer or some shit.”  
  
“Have you told your father?” Rose asks, and you shake your head, “I think this is something he'd like to know.”  
  
“He'd just freak out. I don't really think she's dangerous,” You say. Dave doesn't look particularly convinced, but before he can berate you further, Rose raises a hand to silence him.  
  
“It's up to John,” She tells him before addressing you, “If you want to talk to her, we can't stop you, but be cautious.”  
  
You nod.  
  
“Yeah. I will.”  
  
–  
  
The flight to Hawaii is long and uncomfortable. Dave has been tight-lipped since you told them about Jane, and Rose seems more interested in reading than conversing. You'd be bothered by their silence if you weren't so caught up wondering what the hell was going on.  
  
For some reason, being home was dangerous. But only for you; not for your dad. You're getting impatient to land so you can call your dad and make sure he's alright.  
  
Dave tells you three times to stop fidgeting, and when you don't, he resorts to planting his torso across your lap to stop your knees from bouncing. You flick his nose, but he doesn't budge until you're landing and the seat belt light chimes as it turns on again.  
  
The second you're off the plane, you're dialing your dad.  
  
The plane taking you to Jade's island is her grandpa's, so there's no rush to catch it, and you're not really in a hurry. Rose mentions that she and Dave are going to grab something to eat and that you should meet them when you're done.  
  
You wave her off, too focused on waiting for your dad to pick up.  
  
When he does, he doesn't sound particularly enthused.  
  
“Hello?”  
  
“Dad? Hey, yeah, we landed in Hawaii alright.”  
  
“That's good, son.”  
  
He sounds tired. Your stomach twists and you realize that you're pacing.  
  
“You alright, dad?” You ask, “You don't sound good.”  
  
“Yes, son, I-”  
  
 _“Is that him?”_  
  
You jump. There's a woman's voice in the background of your father's call, loud and high pitched and when you recognize the scuffing noise of your dad putting his hand over the reciever to muffle the voices, your mind goes into overdrive.  
  
Was your dad seeing someone? Did he think he couldn't tell you? Was he keeping it a secret?  
  
Before you can think up worse situations, though, the woman is speaking again, but this time, it sounds like she has the phone.  
  
“Johnny? Johnny, you there, baby?”  
  
Your brow furrows and you don't really want to answer.  
  
You do, anyway.  
  
“Uh, yeah. I'm here. Who is this?”  
  
“Name's Betty, but my friends call me Condesce. And you, sweetheart, are gonna call me mom.”  
  
There's a scuffle, a couple of shouts, one of which you make out to be, _“He most certainly will not,”_ and then your dad is back on the phone, sounding irritated. You haven't heard your dad irritated in a long time.  
  
“I'm sorry about that, John,” He says quietly, “Please, don't worry about any of this. Enjoy your trip. I love you.”  
  
Before you can reply, the line goes dead.  
  
You stand there for a while, your phone still pressed to your ear despite the grating noise of the dial tone. Even more confused than you were before, because your dad definitely didn't sound like he liked the woman enough to even consider being in a relationship with her, you tuck your phone back into your pocket and go off to find your friends.  
  
They're sitting in the food court, two trays from Burger King sitting in front of them. Rose waves as you approach and when you sink into the chair beside her, she pushes a medium bag of french fries at you.  
  
“We didn't know what you'd want,” She says, “I can go get you something else if-”  
  
You shake your head, “This is fine. Thanks.”  
  
They both notice your mood. Dave's quiet and hunched over his food, and though you can't see, you're pretty sure he's staring at you. Rose keeps glancing your way, eyes flickering away as soon as you notice. You don't say anything, though. You should; you should tell them nothing's wrong, you're just tired, but instead you pick at your fries.  
  
When they've finished their food and you've eatern three or four of the fries, Rose stands and says that you guys should be headed toward the plane. You and Dave agree, and you help them toss the trash before grabbing your carry-ons and heading out to find the private terminal.  
  
Rose walks a few paces ahead, but Dave keeps in step with you. His elbow bumps your upper arm and you glance his way.  
  
“You alright?” He asks.  
  
“Yeah,” You say, “My dad was acting weird when I called, though. I'm a little worried.”  
  
Dave nods then hooks an arm around your shoulder and pulls you to his side, “Your dad's pretty badass. I'm sure he'll be fine. And your creepy internet friend said he wasn't in trouble, so...”  
  
You laugh despite yourself, giving him a shove that's kind of ineffective because his arm's still around your shoulder, a fact that you're very avidly not thinking about.  
  
“You're one to talk,” You say, “When we were ten, my dad referred to you as my creepy internet friend.”  
  
“Touche, Egbert.”  
  
It's a long walk through the airport, but you eventually find the private landing strip where the small plane is waiting for you. Your bags are already there, and Grandpa Harley is loading them into the plane.  
  
The door is open and the steps are in place for you all to climb in, but before you can, Jade's appeared in the doorway, a huge grin on her face.  
  
 _“You're here!”_  
She takes the stairs two at a time, launching herself at Rose and nearly bowling her over.  
  
“What took you guys so long? Your flight landed, like, half an hour ago!” She says, releasing Rose and attaching herself to Dave.  
  
“We had to eat, Harley,” Dave says, “Five and a half hours with nothing but soda and stale peanuts isn't as fun as you'd think.”  
  
She rolls her eyes, and when she stops hugging him, she shoves him away. Then she turns to you and stops dead.  
  
“Your face!” She says, swooping in with soft, prodding fingers, “You're all bruised again! Ugh, was it those bullies?”  
  
“Jade, it's nothing-”  
  
“Oh, it is most certainly _something,”_ She whirls around, “Grandpa, book me a flight to Seattle right now! There are some people I need to beat up!”  
  
You roll your eyes, “Jade, don't be ridiculous. Look, I'm here now, in one piece, alright?”  
  
She sighs, turning around again with a frown. Then she pulls you into a hug and rests her cheek on your head, “Fine. I won't beat them up yet. But it's definitely going to happen someday.”  
  
“Jade, I think you're crushing him,” Rose says with a laugh, and Jade releases you with wide, apologetic eyes, “Now, don't we have a plane to catch?”  
  
“Yeah! Come on, guys!” Jade spins around and hooks her arm through Rose's dragging her toward the plane, “Adventures await!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this story is getting out of hand wow


	9. Chapter 9

“Look!” Jade's pressed against the window, practically vibrating with excitement, “Look, guys, you can see the island!”  
  
“Well, I would hope so,” Dave drawls, “It would be unfortunate if it vanished in the hour since you left.”  
  
She aims a kick at him, scowling playfully and Dave laughs at her. You can't fight your smile. You're actively forgetting about whatever's going on at home because you never get to see your friends and you'll be damned if you let these three weeks go to waste.  
  
You and Rose are sitting behind Jade and Dave, and Rose is watching the pair of them bicker with a fond smile. You lean against her and she turns her smile to you.  
  
“Doing alright?” She asks, sliding her arm around your shoulders and ruffling your hair a little, “You were looking distraught back at the airport.”  
  
You press your face into her shoulder and shrug a little, “Something weird's going on at home. It's probably nothing, though.”  
  
She hums in acknowledgment and continues running her fingers through your hair.  
  
You've missed her.  
  
This.  
  
 _Them._  
  
“Rose, you can't hog all the John cuddles!”  
  
Jade sprawls across both of your laps suddenly, and Rose coughs a surprised little laugh. Jade nuzzles into your belly, giggling and you tug on one of her braids in retaliation. She squeals and rolls over onto her back. You note that she's wearing Dave's shades and you hazard a glance at Dave who's watching you all from behind the circular lenses of Jade's glasses.  
  
Jade plucks your glasses from your face and hands them to Rose, who accepts them with a smile.  
  
“What's this?” You ask, “Are we swapping eyewear?”  
  
“Yes,” Jade says, “Do I look cool?”  
  
“Very.”  
  
Dave scoffs. He's turned himself around so he's on his knees, arms folded over the top of the seats so he can see you guys.  
  
“Harley, you couldn't look cool if Bro himself took you under his wing.”  
  
Jade pulls a face and Dave sneers right back.  
  
“David,” Rose says, looking far more mature in your glasses than you ever have—you blame the overbite, “Why don't you join us instead of insulting Jade?”  
  
Dave lifts his hands, “No way. Striders don't cuddle.”  
  
You and Rose both burst into laughter and Jade looks at you with a pinched brow.  
  
“What?” She asks, “What's so funny?”  
  
You snort, “If Striders don't cuddle Dave must not be one. I could hardly breathe last night with the way he was clinging.”  
  
Jade sits bolt upright, the shades slipping down her nose a little. She looks back and forth rapidly between you and Dave, eyes wide just above the top of the glasses. Her voice drops low and turns conspiratory,  
  
“You two _slept together?”_  
  
“Dave's idea,” You explain, “I was trying to go to school and he hauled me back to bed and tried to smother me.”  
  
“That's so _cute!”_ Jade reaches out and smooshes Dave's cheeks, “Dave you're so adorable!”  
  
He recoils with flushed cheeks that Jade's glasses do nothing to hide. He spits and splutters denials but Jade continues giggling and he eventually huffs and crosses his arms and all but glues his forehead to the window for the rest of the flight.  
  
You, Rose and Jade let him sulk. Jade flops back down onto her back so she's once again laying across the two of you and you play with her hair while you chat about island life and how Rose's life has been and you soak in your friends' presence and you're happy.  
  
–  
  
The estate's just as big as you remember, and it's going to take you a while to remember how to not get lost in the endless hallways. You're not sure why Grandpa Harley needs such a huge mansion when it's just him and Jade on the island, and you figure that it's mostly just for show. You don't know _who_ he's showing off for, but that's not really important.  
  
Jade bounces along ahead of you guys, directing you to different rooms that you're not going to remember. There's a little home theater and a indoor pool and hot tub and a room for video game playing and yeah you totally forgot how ridiculously rich the Harleys are. It must show on your face because Jade giggles and informs you that she can get you pictures to take home with you.  
  
You scowl and your face burns and Dave snickers at your expense.  
  
Once she's shown you all the attractions of the estate, she tells you that Grandpa trusts you guys enough to stay in the beach house—it seems a little ridiculous to have an estate and a beach house on the _same island_ but you don't mention it. She leads you guys away from the estate and down a worn path through the trees.  
  
It's blazing hot, and you probably shouldn't have worn jeans because you're sweating and huffing by the time you guys actually make it to the beach house. You fish your inhaler out of your pocket, and swallow a couple of puffs until you feel like you can breathe again even if it is a little short and raspy.  
  
“Don't strain yourself, bro,” Dave says, “Your knight is here.”  
  
And then the asshole scoops you up into his arms like a girl and carries you toward the house.  
  
There's no use fighting—his little stunt this morning proved that. So instead you drape your arm dramatically over your forehead and throw your head back.  
  
“Oh, Mister Strider,” You croon obnoxiously, “My hero.”  
  
He snorts, “That's _Sir_ Strider to you, princess.”  
  
“I don't think knights get to choose what the royalty calls them.”  
  
“This knight does.”  
  
“You losers,” Jade says as Dave carries you through the doorway, “C'mon, I'll show you to your room.”  
  
“Singular?” You ask.  
  
“Yes, singular,” Jade turns and heads down a hall, “There are two beds, but, I mean, you two can push them together to cuddle.”  
  
She tosses a wink over her shoulder and you stick your tongue out.  
  
Dave carries you all the way to the room then dumps you unceremoniously on the bed near the window. Your stuff is already in there, piled by the door.  
  
There's a sliding door that opens onto the porch and a bathroom with a glass shower and a pair of dressers.  
  
“I think we'll keep the beds separate,” Dave informs Jade, “Wouldn't want John to be too tempted by this hot bod.”  
  
Jade ignores him and looks at you, “John, I'm sure you could do a hell of a lot better than this doofus. Anyway, you guys unpack and meet Rose and me in the kitchen, alright?”  
  
She disappears with a smile and a swish of her braids.  
  
“For the record,” Dave says when she's gone, “You totally couldn't do better than me; I'm the best there is.”  
  
“I'll keep that in mind.”  
  
You unpack your bags, transferring clothes from your suitcase and duffel into the dresser across from the foot of your bed. You grab a pair of cargo shorts and your bag of toiletries and go in the bathroom to change. You're extremely glad that none of your scars extend beyond your upper thighs, so even if short-sleeved shirts are out, you don't have to suffer the next three weeks with your legs stuffed into jeans.  
  
You leave your bag next to the sink and return to the bedroom once you're changed. You fold up your jeans and stick them in the drawer with all your pants. Dave shoots you a look, one eyebrow creeping up toward his hairline.  
  
“Long sleeves, dude?” he asks, “We're in Hawaii. You're gonna boil.”  
  
You roll your eyes and flap your hand, “I'll survive, thanks. Besides, I've got my knight to save me if I pass out from heatstroke.”  
  
Dave huffs a laugh, “Fuck yeah you do. Now c'mon, bro, can't keep the ladies waitin'.”  
  
You follow him out of the room and back into the living area, curving around the couch and into the kitchen. Rose and Jade are seated at the island counter, chatting quietly when you two enter.  
  
“Hey boys!” Jade chirps, waggling her fingers, “We're gonna head down to the beach, so I hope you're in your swimsuits.”  
  
“I'm always in my swimsuit, Jade.”  
  
Jade rolls her eyes, “We're not discussing the implications of that statement. But you guys are gonna need sunscreen. C'mere, John.”  
  
Dave goes off to actually get into his swimwear, and Jade waves you over to the counter. You shuffle dutifully to her side. When you make no move to remove your shirt, she raises a questioning brow.  
  
“I'm probably not gonna swim,” You explain, “So I'll leave the shirt on.”  
  
She looks like she wants to say something and she probably does, but she just sighs and goes along with it. She instructs you to hop up on the counter and then pops the cap on her sunscreen, squirting some onto her palm. She dabs it onto your face, her tongue poking out from her lips in concentration.  
  
Her fingers are delicate along your nose, and she frowns a little, “Are you doing okay, John?” She asks quietly.  
  
“Well enough,” You say with a shrug.  
  
“I want to beat those guys up,” She continues as though you hadn't spoken, “And I want to bring my grandpa and...and my cousin Jake so they know what it's like to be outnumbered and I want them to _hurt_ like-”  
  
You catch her wrist. She's shaking and her eyes are brimming with tears.  
  
“It's alright, Jade,” You say, “I'm alright.”  
  
She sniffles and hiccups, “Sorry,” She whispers.  
  
She finishes up with your face and neck and uses the unused sunscreen on your hands and on her own arms. Once there are no more traces of white on her brown skin, she lurches forward and hugs you tightly. You don't care that she's oily and that she'll probably stain your shirt, you return the hug without hesitation.  
  
“I hate distance,” She says into your collar, “I should've been there...you were all alone and...and you must've been so scared.”  
  
Her grip tightens and you rub her back and hope it's soothing.  
  
“I'm alright, Jade. I'm right here. See? Alive and well.”  
  
After a moment, she pulls back. Her nose is red and she's sniffling but she manages a watery smile. She closes her eyes, breathes deeply, and sighs before setting her shoulders and grinning a little more steadily.  
  
“Okay, then,” She says, “You guys ready?”  
  
You turn to where Dave and Rose are seated at the table.  
  
Dave's wearing a pair of red swim trunks and a long sleeved swim shirt. Jade's lips quiver into a little smile but before she can say anything, Dave cuts her off,  
  
“Shut up. I burn easily,” He snaps with reddening cheeks, and Rose is giggling at him from the chair across the table.  
  
“Okay!” Jade snorts, “C'mon, then!”  
  
She slides open the glass door onto the back porch and waits for the rest of you to file out before hopping down the steps and heading for a shed next to the wooden stairs that lead down to the beach. She tells you to wait and disappears inside. It's only a second before towels are flying at you; you manage to catch them but just barely.  
  
“Dave, get in here!”  
  
Silently and snarkily mimicking her, Dave shuffles inside and returns with a large beach umbrella balanced on his shoulder. Jade appears a moment later with a large tub that Rose moves to help her with.  
  
“Alright, let's go!” She says, and the four of you start down the steps. Dave goes first, you last, and the girls between you. You watch Rose and Jade carefully to make sure they don't fall. You don't need either of them to break their necks; that'd be a shitty way to start the summer.  
  
When you reach the beach, you all help set up the umbrella and set out the towels, yours situated in the shade. Dave digs into the tub, brandishing a plastic squirt gun and a colorful beachball.  
  
“Really, Harley?” Dave asks, “This is cheesy even by ironic standards.”  
  
Jade grabs her own gun from the tub, “Those sound like fighting words, cool kid.”  
  
The name doesn't hold as much admiration as it did when you were all kids. Now it's more of a mocking jab, and Dave doesn't miss that. You smile fondly; you're all so much more comfortable with each other now than you were at thirteen and that makes your chest feel a little warm. God, you're such a fucking sap.  
  
“Let's start this war, then,” Rose pipes in, plucking a water gun from the tub with a sly smile. You don't doubt that she and Jade have already been conspiring to gang up on Dave.  
  
“You two go ahead,” Dave says, “I'm gonna talk to Egbert real quick like.”  
  
Jade shrugs and tugs Rose along with her toward the water. Dave plops down on the towel beside you, tipping his head so his shades slide down his nose and he can see you over top of them.  
  
“No swimming, huh?”  
  
You shrug, “I like my activities dry and indoors.”  
  
He snorts then falls silent. You're focusing very hard on not staring at him because _holy shit that swim shirt is tight._ You can see the contours of the lean muscles lining his arms and the line of his abs sharp against the dark fabric.  
  
Your eyes trace along the curve of his shoulders and the freckles along the back of his neck that disappear under the shirt. You wonder how far those freckles spread.  
  
“Like what you see?”  
  
You squeak, startled, and meet his smirk with a sneer, “You wish.”  
  
He sighs dramatically, “Breakin' my heart here, John. Ah well, the girl's are probably gettin' impatient for this Strider. Come to the water if you change your mind.”  
  
He walks a little ways away before you stop him.  
  
“Oh, Dave!”  
  
He turns back toward you.  
  
“Uh, I forgot to say. Sorry about Karkat.”  
  
His head tilts a little like he doesn't know what you're talking about. When he figures it out, he flaps his hand dismissively,  
  
“Man, he and 'Rezi hooked up weeks ago. I'm over it. I'm cool. Super cool. Like ice. It wasn't a serious thing; just a little crush. Infatuation's probably what Rose would call it. Guy shouts too much for my taste, anyway. I mean, you've seen the way he types. That's not just some weird computer malfunction—he talks like that, too.”  
  
He's rambling, which is a clear sign that he's definitely not over it. You gesture for him to go and his mouth snaps shut. His cheeks turn red, but he'd probably blame that on the sun.  
  
He turns and walks briskly away.  
  
Jade and Rose bombard him with water before he even makes it to the surf and he shouts something about bitches being unfair and you snort at how ridiculous he is. You're fucking hopeless.  
  
You'd kind of been hoping that your stupid little crush was a figment of your imagination. You'd hoped that you'd see him again and remember that he's Dave; weird, not-as-cool-as-he-thinks-he-is Dave who was your best friend and not someone that you get crushes on.  
  
Unfortunately, that was apparently not the case and your heart has pretty much taken up residence in your throat. You're also painfully aware of the fact that he doesn't want you the same way. And why would he? He wants someone like Karkat, someone close, someone who isn't a broken, mottled, pathetic excuse for a human being.  
  
And it's not like you don't understand. Karkat's a good guy; he's funny and he genuinely cares despite all the shouting and swearing and insulting.  
  
But understanding doesn't stop it from stinging like a slap to the face.  
  
Jade and Dave and Rose splash around in the water, squirting each other with their water guns and tackling each other into the sand. Their laughter carries, and you smile despite not being able to play with them. It's nice to be able to see them, to hear them laughing without having it filtering through the speakers of your computer.  
  
Dave tackles Jade into the water, laughing as she splutters and she retaliates by grabbing him around the waist and ordering Rose to take his gun. They then proceed to attack him mercilessly while he's unarmed and helpless.  
  
Your viewing is disturbed by your phone chiming from your pocket. You fish it out and see your Pesterchum app blinking. You open it and answer the stranger.  
  
\-- gallowsCallibrator [GC] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 19:13 –-  
GC: H3LLO?  
GC: 1S TH1S JOHN?  
GC: ARGH D1D TH4T 4SSHOL3 G1V3 M3 TH3 WRONG CHUMH4NDL3  
EB: uh yeah this is john.  
EB: who is this?  
GC: OH GOOD  
GC: H3LLO JOHN  
GC: TH1S 1S T3R3Z1  
GC: >:]  
EB: oh!  
EB: yeah, dave and karkat have told me about you!  
EB: you're karkat's girlfriend right?  
GC: TH4T'S M3!  
EB: cool!  
EB: so what's up?  
EB: did you need something?  
GC: WH4T C4N'T 1 W4NT TO JUST T4LK TO MY BOYS' B3ST FR13ND?  
EB: hehe i suppose so.  
EB: but i don't think that's why you pestered me.  
GC: Y34H YOU'RE R1GHT.  
GC: 1 W4NT3D TO T4LK TO YOU 4BOUT D4V3  
EB: dave?  
EB: what's up?  
GC: 1'M JUST WORR13D ABOUT H1M.  
EB: worried?  
EB: why?  
GC: W3LL S1NCE K4RK4T 4ND 1 GOT TOG3TH3R H3'S B33N...  
GC: W31RD  
EB: weird how?  
GC: H3'S JUST B33N K1ND OF OFF YOU KNOW  
GC: H3'S B33N QU13T3R 4ND H3 DO3SN'T W4NT TO H4NG OUT W1TH US MUCH  
GC: 1 M34N 1 KNOW H3 H4D 4 CRUSH ON K4RK4T  
GC: SO W3 DON'T 4CT COUPLY 4ROUND H1M  
GC: W3'R3 NOT TH4T M34N  
GC: BUT H3 ST1LL K33PS H1MS3LF LOCK3D 4W4Y 4T HOM3  
EB: oh...  
EB: i see...  
GC: Y34H...  
GC: H3'S MY B3ST FR13ND 4ND 1 N3V3R W4NT3D TO HURT H1M...  
EB: i know  
EB: it's not your fault  
EB: you make karkat happy  
EB: you shouldn't feel guilty for that  
GC: TH4NKS JOHN  
EB: no problem  
GC: 4NYW4Y 1 KNOW YOU'R3 H4V1NG YOUR M33T UP  
GC: SO JUST W4TCH OUT FOR H1M  
GC: OK4Y?  
EB: i will  
EB: i promise  
GC: GOOD  
GC: 1'V3 GOT TO GO  
GC: H4V3 FUN JOHN  
GC: 1T W4S N1C3 M33T1NG YOU  
GC: >:]  
EB: alright!  
EB: bye terezi.  
EB: :)  
–- gallowsCallibrator [GC] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] 19:27 –-  
  
You'd never actually spoken to Terezi, so you weren't sure how you were going to feel about her. But if she cares enough about Dave to message you and ask you to look out for him, she's a-okay in your book.  
  
You tuck your phone back into your pocket and go back to watching your friends.  
  
By the time their little war ends, the sun's starting to set and the light's dimming. They slink up the beach, laughing breathlessly, and both Rose and Dave are pink high along their cheeks.  
  
Jade flops down onto the towel next to you and tosses a wide grin in your direction.  
  
“Have fun?” You ask.  
  
“Dave plays dirty,” She replies, and Dave scoffs from the towel on her other side.  
  
“If I recall,” He says, “You and Rose were the ones who disarmed me and continued attacking while i was defenseless.”  
  
She rolls her eyes and you all lapse into silence as they catch their breath and calm themselves down. When they're no longer gasping and panting, you all help pack everything back up and head back up the stairs. Dave's complaining by the time you reach the top and Jade threatens to shove him back down the stairs if he doesn't shut up.  
  
It's not exactly _late,_ but with all the travel and running around, you're all in agreement that an early night wouldn't be a bad thing. You've got three weeks to hang out, anyway.  
  
You hug Rose and Jade and wish them goodnight, and Jade kisses you on the cheek and you all head into your respective bedrooms through the glass doors.  
  
You flop down on the bed, hot and exhausted.  
  
“I'm gonna shower,” Dave mutters, dragging his fingers through his damp hair, “Salt water sucks.”  
  
You snort, “Thank god. I think you're starting to smell.”  
  
He sticks his tongue out—and you're definitely not paying attention to the piercing there, no way—and then he disappears into the bathroom.  
  
You wait until you hear the shower running and you're pretty sure he's not going to ambush you before you peel off your sweat-damp clothes to change into pajamas. You do your best to avoid looking at the scars.  
  
Usually, you don't pay them much heed. They're just kind of...there. They're a part of you, just as much as your hands and arms are. But now, with your friends in such close proximity, you're hyper aware of them, and seeing them there against your skin makes you feel sick.  
  
You quickly tug another long-sleeved shirt over your head—it's the slime shirt that you've had since you were thirteen. It's stretched and faded but it's also ridiculously comfortable and it's thin enough that it shouldn't cause you too much discomfort in this heat.  
  
You wiggle into some flannel pajama pants and then settle back onto the bed, waiting for Dave to finish up so that you can brush your teeth and sleep.  
  
Sighing, you roll onto your side and close your eyes. You're starting to drift off by the time Dave shuts the water off, so you don't know he's out of the shower until he's flicking you on the ear to wake you.  
  
You jump, startled and stare up at him— _shirtless, fuck he's shirtless_ —and he grins.  
  
“Sleepy, Egbert?” He asks, and with burning cheeks, you try to look at something other than his fucking torso.  
  
Your eyes drift to his arms and-  
  
Oh.  
  
Oh fuck no.  
  
You grab at his right arm, not even caring anymore that he's only in his boxers because _there are scars on his arm._  
  
They're nothing serious, just three dark lines near the crook of his elbow, small and neat, and you probably wouldn't have noticed them if he wasn't so pale. You touch them with shaking fingers. They're smooth, blending right into the skin, so they're not fresh and they probably weren't even that deep, but they're there.  
  
“Dave,” Your voice is little more than a croak, “Dave what the fuck are these?”  
  
He's staring resolutely at the ground, “Nothing. Cat.”  
  
“Dave you don't _have_ a cat.”  
  
He shrugs.  
  
“Dave, _what the fuck are these?”_  
  
You want him to laugh, to wave it off, tell you that they're nothing, that he fell or got scratched and it just happened to be in three perfectly parallel lines. You want him to tell you that it's anything other than what you think it is because these are scars that don't belong on him. Not on Dave.  
  
He shifts his weight uncomfortably, “With the way you're reacting, I think you know what they are, dude.”  
  
You laugh, high and wheezy and panicked because, shit, you're definitely panicking, “Why-why would you. Dave, fuck, _Dave.”_  
  
Noticing your panic, he actually lifts his eyes to meet yours and his brow is pinched and he looks worried about you which is ridiculous because he's the one who needs to be worried about.  
  
“John, calm down,” He says and his voice is a little wobbly but it's steadier than your pounding heart and squeaking breaths, “I was in a shitty place with the whole Karkat thing and I just...fuck, I don't know, it just kind of happened. But it didn't help like I thought it would, so I never did it again. It was a one time thing. I promise.”  
  
And okay, that's good, that's a good thing. He didn't like it. It didn't help. He wasn't going to do it again.  
  
But that doesn't stop the shaking. It doesn't make the breaths come any easier.  
  
You grip at his arm and you make this pathetic little noise because you definitely aren't getting enough air to actually say anything, and you're scared, you're so scared. Not for yourself—no way, you don't matter—you're scared for him.  
  
You're so fucking terrified because at some point Dave was sitting in his room or on the bathroom floor and he put a blade to his skin _three fucking times_ because he was in so much pain. He was hurting and you couldn't do anything. He came so close, so fucking _close_ to falling into this addiction, this _hell._ And he doesn't deserve that. That's a pain that he should never, never have to know.  
  
You don't realize that you're gasping out his name until he's sitting on the bed beside you and pulling you into his chest, pressing your face into the junction between his neck and shoulders, his arms tight around you. He's murmuring into your ear—“It's okay, John. I'm here. I'm right here. Breathe, buddy, just breathe. I'm fine.”—and he's warm and and a little damp and he smells like shampoo and even though his arms are almost too tight around you, it's easier to breathe.  
  
He holds you until your shaking subsides and your desperate gasps fade into little dry, hiccuping sobs.  
  
He doesn't stop talking, though. His voice is soft and quiet enough that you can barely make out the fact that he's rapping, the loser, and he manhandles you under the covers and squeezes into the twin bed with you and he doesn't let go or ask you why you freaked the fuck out. He just runs his fingers through your hair and tells you that it's alright and you fall asleep listening to the low rumble of his voice and the steady, reassuring beat of his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to make this a chapter full of nothing but happy fun times with the beta kids but I couldn't do it


	10. Chapter 10

You wake the next morning feeling rather gross. You're hot and sweaty and Dave is like a goddamned furnace, but you find it hard to pry yourself from his limbs. It's uncomfortable, but you enjoy his closeness, the sound of his breaths puffing past his lips and the smell of the soap on his skin. You wiggle around a little to resituate yourself, and you end up laying on your back, one of his arms settled behind your neck and the other draped across your chest. You curl one hand up and run your fingers along his arm, up toward the trio of scars tucked in near his elbow.

You touch each one softly, wondering about them, about how how scared he must have been, how hurt. You don't remember your first cut—you feel like you should, like it should be hold some deep, sentimental meaning for you, but it doesn't, really—but you know how alone you feel when you sit in your bedroom and watch the red slither down your arm. You don't like imagining Dave feeling like that. What if he messaged you that day? What if the two of you talked and you didn't even notice?

You look up at his sleeping face, the way his pale lashes curl against his freckled cheeks. His lips are parted a little to allow breaths past and you resist the urge to touch them; that'd be way inappropriate. You feel creepy looking at his face while he's asleep, so you return your eyes to the scars. When you press your thumb over them, you can't see them at all. They're so small, and he said he'd never do it again, but that doesn't settle your mind in the least. You know how addicting it can be, how easy it is to fall into.

You wish he'd never tried it at all.

“It really was just one time.”

You start, drawing your hand back quickly and looking up at him. His right eye is opened just a little, the red of his iris just barely visible. 

“Sorry,” You say, wriggling out of his arms and nearly falling off the bed in the process, “I was just- I mean-”

Dave rolls his eyes as he sits up, propping himself on his hands, “Cool it, dude. I don't mind—I know, it's kinda freaky.”

That stings more than you'd care to admit. If he thinks the three little lines on his arm are freaky, what would he think of you? You with your macabre web of scars on your arms and hips, deep enough that they aren't smooth but swollen and ridged, standing stark against your flesh. You cross your arms across your stomach self-consciously and climb out of bed. He notices your discomfort. 

“Yo, you alright?”

You swallow and muster up a smile, “Yeah. Just hungry. Wanna go grab some breakfast?”

He doesn't believe you, that much is obvious, but he grabs for his shades anyway and climbs out of bed, “Let's do it. Should we wake the girls?”

“Nah, let 'em sleep.”

Dave pulls on a tee-shirt and follows you out into the kitchen. You scour the cupboards and find a package of pancake mix. There's a skillet beneath the oven and you pull it out, set it on the stove, and let it heat. You make the batter, watching Dave out of the corner of your eye. He's seated at the island, shades in place and phone in hand, typing quickly. 

Probably Karkat. 

You swallow your bitterness and return to your cooking. 

You make a bunch of pancakes and pile them onto a plate, turning off the stove and moving the pan to a cold burner. You put the leftover batter in the fridge in case Rose and Jade want pancakes when they wake, and you take the plate over to where Dave's sitting. 

“No syrup,” You say, fishing a pair of forks and butter knives out of one of the drawers and grabbing a couple of plates out of the cupboard, “There's butter, though.”

Dave sighs and sets his phone down, groaning, “Lame. What kind of a place has pancake mix but no syrup?”

You snort, moving to sit on the stool beside him, “The kind that's a beach house on a private island with a separate estate.”

“I'm gonna file a complaint with Grandpa Harley,” Dave says, sliding a couple of pancakes onto his plate, “This is an outrage.”

“Dude, he's got guns bigger than you. Is it really worth it?”

“Syrup is sacred, bro.”

You mostly eat in silence. Well, _you're_ quiet at least; Dave complains between every bite about the lack of syrup. You smother the urge to sock him—your pancakes are fantastic even without syrup. 

When you finish, you set your fork down and look back at him. He's checking his phone again, arm turned upwards, and you see those fucking scars again. 

“So,” You say, hand creeping over to touch them again, as if covering them with your fingers will make them vanish, “Why...why'd you do it? I mean, I know _why,_ but...why...”

He turns a little your way, “Why cut?”

You nod, and he sighs,

“I dunno, man. I was just feeling majorly shitty. More than normal shitty, y'know? God, it's- it's hard to explain...kinda hopeless? It's stupid, but I was mostly just trying to figure out what 'Rezi had that I didn't. I mean, it's probably 'cause I'm a dude and Karkat's not into that, but I couldn't shake the feeling that it was...me, me. Not my dick, but, like, that I was a dick, y'know?”

You nod and he swallows before continuing,

“I'd seen it around. On the internet, in books, at school. Everyone knows about cutting and shit, and I just. I didn't know what else to do. It obviously works for some people, right? There's got to be something comforting about it. But all it did was hurt, so I threw out my razor and I didn't even consider again.”

You breathe out, nodding a little, “Yeah, yeah. That's good. Good. Just don't...don't do it again. Ever.”

“'Course, man. Promise. Now,” He turns fully toward you, “Your turn. Why the fuck'd you freak out so bad last night? I mean, they're like paper cuts, dude. Not even serious.”

“I dunno,” You shrug, “I've been having attacks like that a lot, lately. Sometimes just over little things. And you're my best friend, Dave...seeing that you...that you _hurt_ yourself, it just...I don't know.”

“I get it, man. No worries. I'm just glad the ladies didn't catch us all snuggled up—they'd never let us live it down.”

You catch his smile and return it. He opens his mouth to say something else, but there are loud footsteps and then Jade's coming around the corner lacking her glasses, eyes drooped and sleepy. 

“I smell pancakes,” She mumbles, “Did you guys make pancakes without me?”

You laugh, “Batter's in the fridge. Want me to make you some?”

She mumbles her agreement and takes your seat when you vacate it. Rose joins you a few moments later with mussed hair and rumpled clothes, and she asks for a few pancakes, too.

Jade fawns over them once they're in front of her, praising you on how perfect they are.

“My dad's a good teacher,” You say dismissively, “Now, I'm gonna go shower while you guys eat, okay?”

Jade nods and waves you off and you slip away easily as Dave makes a crack about how much the girls are eating. They all get along well enough without you. You four are a close-knit group, and if you weren't there...well, they'd get each other through it, right?

You berate yourself—none of those thoughts, not when you're on vacation with your best friends. It's harder, though, when you get the water running in the bathroom and strip down. You look at your reflection, at your twisted and mottled flesh, the scars you've cut into yourself. How could Rose look at you? Dave had said himself that it was freaky, that you were a freak who takes a blade to himself, who carves into his own skin. God, what would _Jade_ say?

She'd cry. She'd be furious.

You bite your lip and tear your eyes away from your reflection and climb in the shower. The water is scalding and you wish that you could wash away the scars, scrub at them until they were gone and your skin was as clean as it was two years ago. 

You spend a half hour in the shower wishing you were anyone but yourself.

–

After your shower, you rejoin your friends in the living room. Jade waves you over and pats the seat beside her on the couch and you flop down next to her. 

“What's up?” You ask, and she bounces a little.

“We're just figuring out what we're gonna do today,” She says, “ _I_ want to go exploring, but Dave's being lazy.”

He rolls his eyes from where he's sprawled on the floor, “Dude, yesterday was the most I'd moved in months. I don't think I'd survive a day of exploring.”

Rose laughs, “Perhaps you should get out more, then. Although, Jade, I believe that a more relaxing day would be nice; we did spend most of yesterday on an airplane.”

Jade heaves a dramatic sigh, “Fine. What do you guys wanna do, then?”

“Let's go play video games,” Dave says, “I'll call all your asses.”

You snort, “Yeah right. I've seen you play video games, Dave.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Do you want it to be?”

Dave sits up, a grin pulling at his lips, “Oh, dude, it's _on.”_

Jade giggles and stands, stating that she'll be the judge of the challenge. She helps Dave up, and the four of you leave the beach house to head back up to the estate. Jade takes you to the room that specifically designed for video game playing—why they need multiple televisions for multiple purposes, you don't know, but you're not gonna question it. You and Dave scuffle over chairs and Jade puts in Mario Kart while you shove Dave out of the seat you want and he slumps petulantly into the seat beside it. 

“You're goin' down, Egbert,” He says when Jade hands him his controller, “You're goin' down so far you're gonna have to tell Lucifer hello for me.”

You scoff, “As if. Let's see you practice what you preach, Strider.”

Both of you are just talking big, though, and that's made obvious when Rose and Jade wipe the floor with you. Jade cackles and Rose sends you these smarmy, triumphant looks, but at least you're beating Dave. He gets progressively more despondent with every race he comes last in, until he tosses his controller on the floor and slumps in his chair and refuses to play, sulking like a child. You tell him that you could play a round with your eyes closed and give him a fighting chance, and you're pretty sure he's going to start throwing punches with the look he gives you. 

You spend the morning and a little of the afternoon swapping out games and shouting a lot and poking fun at Dave until Jade decides to take mercy and suggests making lunch and watching movies. With no objections, you all file into the kitchen and heat up a couple of frozen pizzas. Equipped with pizza and sodas scavenged from her fridge, you make your way to the large home theater. There's plenty of places to sit in the spacious room, but you all end up piling on bean bags up front, pressed in close together with you in the middle and Rose, Dave and Jade around you. You don't mind. You enjoy the close quarters, knowing they're _there._

You watch a bunch of laughably bad movies, and make fun of them throughout. Dave also takes time to make fun of your taste in music as revenge for your teasing of him during the video games, but you're a much better sport about than he was. You watch them until you're all practically asleep and Rose says you should start heading back to the beach house. It's a struggle getting there with a lot of stumbling, mostly on Jade's part. When you reach the house, Jade tells you all to wait and then returns with blankets and pillows and dumps them on the floor in the living room. None of you question it; you all climb in and burrow into blankets and argue over pillows until you're situated and comfortable and you fall asleep with your best friends close enough to touch.

–

The next few days blur together in smears of days spent sprawled in front of the television watching movies and exploring the jungle with Jade's dog, Bec, following faithfully behind. A couple of nights, you stay up late talking to Dave in your room, and you're sure Jade and Rose do the same. On the others, though, you all stay up together, sprawled on piles of blankets and pillows in the living room, chatting about everything and nothing at all. You're happy, you're _comfortable,_ and that should've been your first clue that nothing was going to last.

You're about a week and a half into the visit when it happens, when you think that Dave is out chatting with the girls when you're changing. He was, actually, but he'd come in to get you for something, for some reason, and he'd caught you with your shirt off and your scars bared for him to see. 

You're frozen the moment you hear the door click, and you'd hoped beyond reason that it was Rose. But it was Dave who poked his head in, mouth open to speak and halted there before he could make a sound. For a while, he just stares and you stand completely still like a deer caught in the headlights. You know how awful you must look, how ugly the scars make you, like a physical manifestation of the horrors in your mind. 

He slips inside and shuts the door behind him, standing with his back against it and his hands balled into fists at his sides. You feel the tremors start in your fingers, your heart pounding in your throat and your mind telling you to _go, go, get out of there, get out of there now before something worse happens._

God, you wish he'd say something, but he just stands there in silence, face unreadable beyond the tight draw of his lips. It's your movement that shatters his silence. You draw your arms around yourself and hunch a little and he speaks,

“What the fuck?” He says, and his voice is quiet and angry and dangerous, and you've never been afraid of Dave, but you are now, “What the _fuck,_ John?”

Your jaw trembles, and you try to speak but your voice fails. 

“You-you got mad at _me,”_ he continues, “For this shit. For three little cuts. While you're-you're. Jesus fucking _Christ,_ John, you're such a fucking hypocrite.”

You flinch, his words like a slap to the face. He doesn't stop, though. Now he's stepping away from the door, towards you, and you fell cornered even with the sliding door behind you.

“So what the hell was last week, huh?” he demands with a trembling voice, “What was it? Actin' all high and mighty, tellin' me never to do it again. All that bullshit about me bein' your best friend. What-what did you think, huh? That I wouldn't give a shit about this? That seeing you like that wouldn't bother me? You think you're the only one who cares, John? _Huh?”_

You stumble back again, and you're trying to apologize, you really are, but your breaths are too short and your eyes are blurring with tears—no, no, you can't cry, not now, not when you've been strong for _so long_ —and everything is happening way too fast and the world is closing in on you, and you're _scared._ But this is Dave; Dave won't hurt you, Dave's your best friend. 

Or is he? Is he now? He's so _fucking_ mad, and, god, what if he does hurt you? He's stronger than you; you couldn't stop him if he tried, and he's just getting closer.

“Jesus, fuck, John, look what you've done to yourself. How the fuck could you freak out over me when you...when you... _fuck, John.”_

You make a strangled sound and bolt, fumbling a minute with the door and then stumbling out onto the deck. You need to get away, to escape. You hear him calling you and you think you hear the girls but you don't care, not now.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

You very nearly fall and break your neck on the stairs that lead to the beach, but you make it to the sand unharmed. You run down the beach quickly, the sun setting in the distance and the sand warm under your feet. By the time you stop, the sun is no longer visible over the horizon and your breath isn't making it to your lungs. You palm along your hips for your inhaler but it's not there, you hadn't grabbed it. 

Your knees hit the ground and you fist your hands into the fabric of your shorts, focusing on breathing, on forcing the breaths through. When you finally manage pathetic, wheezing breaths, you feel a weight on your shoulder. You jerk away, but it's not your friends. It's Bec, the hulking white dog who'd scared you on your first visit.

He whines and falls back on his haunches and noses at your cheek. You reach up and curl your fingers into his fur. He wiggles a little and flops down with his head on your knees, nuzzling your stomach. He doesn't care about your scars. He's not angry with you. 

You double over and hug him close and hate yourself all the more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dave you're not handling this situation very well


	11. ==> Be the Kid who Fucked Up Big Time

God, but you're an idiot.

You shouldn't have yelled; you _know_ you shouldn't have yelled. But shit-shit he'd had so many scars. He'd been so panicked when he'd seen yours, so terrified. You'd never seen him like that. But, god, why was he so scared for _you_ when he'd been through so much more? You weren't-you weren't even _mad_ at him. Not really. You'd just been so blindsided; there were so many scars.

You'd been overwhelmed, confused, you'd lashed out because you were scared. But that wasn't fair and you know it because John had been scared, too. You'd seen it, you'd seen the way he shrunk away and stumbled away from you like you were going to hurt him. Not like you'd acted any different with the way you were shouting and cornering him. God, you're such a fucking _idiot._ A stupid, narcissistic idiot. You had no right to be angry at him. It's not like he was doing that to piss you off, to make you angry. No, he was doing it because he was scared and in pain and alone and _you hadn't been there for him._ Had you talked to him before he hurt himself again? Had he been asking for help? Had you not noticed? 

God, that time when you ignored him- when you'd been so freaked about coming out-

Fuck, _fuck._

You should be going after him, you know you should, but you can't make your legs move. You're paralyzed and furious with yourself and the guilt is eating you alive. He's your best friend and he needs you and you'd shouted at him, scared him, sent him running. Fuck, what is _wrong_ with you, you stupid _fuck._

There's a knocking on the door and it sounds like a sledgehammer to your ears but you tell them to come in. 

“Dave?” Rose walks in, eyes sweeping the room before fixing on you, “What happened? We heard shouting? Where's John?”

Jade swoops in behind her, eyes wide, “Dave, you- are you okay?”

“John and I-” You choke off, “We got in a fight.”

“About what?” Rose asks, her voice sharp as a knife.

“I walked in and his shirt was- it was off.”

Jade's brow furrows and her lips curl down into a frown. She looks between you two like she's missing something, and that's when you realize that Rose doesn't look confused. Far from it. 

“What are you guys-”

“You knew,” You say, cutting Jade off and staring straight at Rose, “You _knew.”_

She looks like she's going to protest for a moment before she sighs and crosses her arms,

“Yes. I knew.”

“Knew what?” Jade asks, practically putting herself between you because you're pretty sure you look like you're about to rip Rose's head off, “What the hell are you guys talking about?”

Rose falls back a step, away from you, and she's got that face that she gets when she's forcing herself to be calm. She inhales shakily and releases a breath before addressing Jade's question.

“John...cuts.”

Jade still looks lost, and oh yeah, she lives on a fucking island in the middle of the ocean; why the hell would she know what you're talking about. 

Rose continues before you can explain,

“It's a method of self harm. John cuts himself as a way of coping with the extreme emotional, physical, and mental stress that he's under.”

It's a short description, and it doesn't feel like it's enough. It feels like she's making it so much less than it _is,_ but it's enough to make Jade clap a hand over her mouth and look ill. She stumbles back a little, her back connecting with the dresser. Tears shine in her eyes, and you want to say something comforting, but all you can think about is the fact that _Rose knew._

“How long?” You ask, voice little more than a snarl.

Rose sighs, “I've known since the meet-up last year. Then, it was only a few scars. I convinced him to stop, and I helped him try to recover. He didn't want you to know.”

“Well it didn't work, obviously,” You spit, “Because that didn't look like a _few_ _scars.”_

Rose's lip curls, “Like you helped, ignoring him for _weeks_ without a word.”

“Well if I'd known, if you hadn't kept it a goddamn _secret-”_

“Guys!” Jade's between you again, and she's still shaking, still scared, but she's glowering, “Now's not the time for you to fight, okay? _Where is John?”_

Your breath hitches and the guilt hits you again, “I got- upset when I saw the scars. He'd seen mine last week-” You don't miss the noise Jade makes at that, “-and he _freaked_ and I just. I was mad- I was mad and I wasn't thinking, and I yelled. He got scared and ran off-”

You don't get to finish because there's a fist in your face. A fist too small to be Jade's. It connects high on your cheekbone and you stumble back, tripping over your feet and landing on your ass, your back smacking hard against the bed frame. 

_“Rose!”_ Jade squeaks, and when you look up, Rose is _shaking._

“I can't _believe_ you,” Rose seethes, “He needs _help_ not for self righteous pricks like _you_ to get mad at him. Why did you think it'd be okay to yell at him- we could hear you from the _living room._ You're bigger than him, Dave! Like all the guys who've been beating him up after school!”

You flinch away at that. You hadn't thought about that, about the bullying, about the guys who cornered him when he was alone and kicked the shit out of him. God, did he think you were one of them? Did he think you would've hurt him?

Well, of fucking course he did, with the way _you'd_ been acting.

“I need to find him,” You say, standing shakily, “Shit, _shit,_ I need to find him.”

Jade puts a hand on Rose's shoulder and holds one up toward you, “Maybe you shouldn't, Dave,” She says quietly.

“No, I think I _definitely_ should-”

Jade shoots you a glower, “Shut up. _You_ scared him off in the first place, and _you,”_ She turns toward Rose, “Are _way_ too angry. So _I'm_ going to go find him because this is my island and I know it best. You two stay here and work through your bitch fit so you can be calm when I bring him back because the last thing he's going to need is two angry best friends to deal with.”

Rose, still trembling, tries, “Jade, Dave and I understand the situ-”

“I don't care!” Jade snaps, “I don't care how well you understand the situation or how poorly I do, okay? Maybe what he needs right now is someone who isn't going to yell at him or psychoanalyze him. Now you two sit down and work out your differences while I go find our _friend.”_

She leaves no room for argument, stomping out of the room and slamming the sliding door loudly behind her. Once she's gone, you slump back against the bed and huff,

“Forgot how scary she can be.”

Rose hums her agreement before moving to sit on the foot of John's bed. She's still shaking, but she has her arms crossed and her fingers are digging into her arms hard enough to bruise.

“I'd say I'm sorry about punching you,” She says, “But I'm really not.”

You don't reply, lifting a hand to press at your tender cheek. It throbs and, yeah, you should be angry about it but all you can think about is the fact that John had to deal with this shit daily, had to go home and treat bruises while you were whining about your goddamn love life.

You are a shitty person and a majorly shitty friend.

Silence settles over the two of you until you can't take it anymore,

“Why didn't you tell me?”

She doesn't look at you, “He asked me not to.”

“So?” Your hands curl into fists, “He's my best friend, I think I have a right-”

“You don't have a right to anything, Dave,” Her eyes finally flicker to yours, and they're cold, harsh, “John's your friend, not your property. You don't own him, and you don't get to decide what he needs to tell you. And the reason he wasn't telling you was because he was afraid you'd react _exactly_ like you did.”

“Shit,” You drag your fingers through your hair, “I wasn't mad. I mean, I was- but not at him. I don't know, it just kind of happened. I just- I just started yelling before I realized what I was saying. And I know I fucked up and I was going to go after him and apologize, but-”

There's a hand on your shoulder, then, startling you. 

You turn a little to your right and find Rose on the floor beside you. Her hand slides down your arm to your elbow and she leans into your side, her head on your shoulder.

“I know,” She says quietly, “I know you didn't mean to. Yours was a perfectly natural reaction.”

You lean your head on hers, mindful of your shades, “This shit sucks, man.”

“I don't know what to do, Dave,” Rose admits, “I want to help him, but I don't know how. I'm not...used...to not knowing.”

You snort, “Yeah, well that's all I'm used to, so I guess we're even for once.”

She laughs weakly and you close your eyes and hope to god John's alright.

–

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] opened a memo on board Sorry It's Late But I Need To Talk --

\-- arsenicCatnip [AC] responded to memo. --

AC: :33 < *ac pads into the memo, rubbing sleepily at her eyes*  
AC: :33 < hey john is efurything alright???  
EB: uh, no, no roleplay tonight, nepeta.  
EB: please.  
AC: :33 < okay no problem   
AC: :33 < serious business got it  
EB: sorry, that sounded really rude.   
EB: i didn't mean to.  
AC: :33 < dont apologize its fine  
AC: :33 < ill go wake up equius  
EB: alright.  
EB: thanks.

\-- centaursTesticles [CT] responded to memo. --

CT: D --> John  
CT: D --> Is everything alright  
EB: no, not really.  
EB: everything's so fucked up.  
AC: :33 < john what happened???  
EB: i got in a fight with dave.  
EB: a big fight.  
EB: god, he probably hates me.  
CT: D --> I do not know this Dave, but I sincerely doubt that this is true  
EB: fuck, how could he not?  
EB: i'm so fucked up.  
AC: :33 < john dont say that!!! :((  
AC: :33 < what happened?  
EB: i just...  
EB: i've done pretty stupid shit.  
EB: awful shit.  
EB: and dave found out and, god, he was so mad.  
EB: fuck.  
AC: :33 < did he do anything john?  
AC: :33 < did he hurt you???  
EB: no, of course not.  
EB: he just...  
EB: he just yelled.  
EB: and i got scared and i ran.  
CT: D --> Where are you now  
CT: D --> Are you safe  
EB: yeah, i'm fine, i think.  
EB: i'm on the beach.  
EB: jade's dog is here.  
AC: :33 < john do you want to tell us what...  
AC: :33 < what you did that you think is so bad?  
EB: i can't.  
EB: fuck, i can't, not after dave.  
EB: i'm sorry, i shouldn't have woken you guys up.  
AC: :33 < no john its fine  
AC: :33 < were your friends were supposed to be here for you  
EB: yeah, yeah, i know.   
EB: oh, shit, someone's coming.  
EB: i've got to go, but, uh, thanks.  
EB: you know, for talking to me.  
CT: D --> Of course, John  
AC: :33 < were always here!!!  
AC: :33 < dont forget that!!!  
EB: okay.  
EB: bye guys.

\-- [AC] ceased responding to memo. --

–- [CT] ceased responding to memo. --  
  
\-- [EB] closed the memo. --

You'd expected it to be Rose. Rose already knew, Rose had been dealing with you for a year already, so it would only make sense for it to be her, right?

But when Bec goes bounding away from you, you know who it is.

You tuck your phone back into the pocket of your jeans and you watch Jade approach slowly, Bec circling her legs excitedly. She smiles weakly as she nears, her bare feet silent against the sand. You curl in on yourself, trying to hide your scars as best you can. 

“Hey,” She says, sitting on the sand next to you, “You don't have to hide, you know. Dave told me.”

You don't respond, staring fixedly ahead of you, your arms trembling just a bit. You're scared, scared of her reaction, scared that she'll revile you once she's seen the mess you've made of your own body.

“I know he reacted badly,” She continues, “Dave's kind of shit at dealing with his anger well, y'know? I know he scared you.

You feel her fingers fluttering, feather-light along your scars and you shiver but don't stop her.  
“I don't really understand it. I didn't even know it was, like, a thing before today. But I know _you,_ and I know that I don't want you to...to hurt yourself like this. I want you to be happy, and I want you to let us help you be happy. You're not alone, John, even if we can't really be there, and-”

She hiccups and you look up, and you realize that, _shit,_ she's _crying._ Her face is a little flushed and she's scrubbing at her damp cheeks with the heels of her hand, sniffling, and you feel the guilt like a punch in the gut.

“No, Jade, shit, it's not you guys,” You sit up, dragging your fingers through your hairk, “I just- I didn't know what to do, anymore, with school and the bullies and Dave. I just started and then I couldn't stop. It's not your fault I'm so fucked up in the head.”

“You're _not_ fucked up,” She snaps then, her eyes suddenly alight with fury despite her quavering lip, “You're _not,_ you understand me? You are wonderful and you're nice and you can be a total asshole sometimes but it's kind of endearing. And you're smart and one of my best friends, so don't think that stuff about yourself!”

You choke out a laugh and lean over toward her. She puts her arm around your shoulder and the two of you sit, watching the last of the sunlight fade from the sky as the waves crept up the beach toward you. You're comfortably silent for a while, before you blurt,

“I think I'm in love with Dave.”

She jumps at your sudden outburst, but relaxes again and rubs circles into your shoulder, “I see.”

“And it _sucks,”_ you continue, “I mean, he's gay, but he's still mooning over Karkat. And I don't mean to sound like being his friend isn't enough because it is, but I just...I don't know. I wish I was different. I wish I wasn't broken and twisted and damaged and-”

“You're doing it again,” She says, effectively shutting you up, “I'm sorry about Dave. But you never know, right? He might get over Karkat and realize that there's a really cute boy right in front of him.”

You snort, and you lapse into silence again. 

When it gets dark enough that it's hard to see, you and Jade walk back to the house.

You reach the lawn, the grass cool beneath your feet, and you look up at window to your bedroom, noticing that the light's still on. Dave's probably waiting for you. You turn to Jade to ask her if you can just please sleep on the couch, but her eyes are already on you.

“Talk to him,” She says, “He freaked out earlier but it wasn't for the reasons you thought it was.”

You nod and hug her and she assures you once again that she loves you before you go to the glass door and slide it open to slip inside. 

Dave and Rose are sitting on the floor by the foot of Dave's bed, leaning against each other and talking quietly. They both startle when you walk in.

“John, thank god,” Rose stands up and hurries over to hug you, “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” You say quietly, “I, um, I need to talk to Dave.”

She nods understandingly and kisses your temple before turning to leave. She wishes Dave a good night and disappears into the hall, door clicking shut behind her.

You hover awkwardly in the doorway while Dave stands up and shakes out his legs. He swallows and falls onto his bed, gesturing toward your bed. You grab a shirt before you go—a short-sleeved shirt this time, no point hiding now—and sit across from him, hands folded neatly on your knees.

“Sorry about earlier,” Dave says immediately, “I wasn't mad at- you. More at me. And the shitheads who bother you at school. And-”

“I get it.”

His mouth snaps shut, which would be funny if you weren't feeling so sick. 

You wet your lips and swallow thickly. 

Dave shifts, “I...can I ask...why?”

You shrug, “It just kind of, um, happened. Kind of like you, but it stuck with me. And I tried to stop for Rose, but then...then everything happened all at once. The bullies and the grades and y-”

You stop yourself because he doesn't need to feel guilty about that, but you see the way his face changes, and you know you didn't stop fast enough.

“Shit,” He drags his fingers through his hair, “Shit, _shit.”_

“It's not your fault,” You say quickly, “You can't blame yourself for me being fucked up-”

“You're not fucked up,” Dave snaps, but you don't want to hear another rant like Jade's, so you end up saying, 

“That's not what the kids at school think.”

Dave's head snaps up so fast you think his neck might break, “What? They know?”

You shake a little, “Not on purpose. I didn't mean for it-”

“How?” he snaps, “How the fuck do they know?”

You flinch a little, and you want to lie but you're already talking,

“It was the day you guys flew in to Seattle, and- and I was trying to go straight home. But those guys—the ones from before who beat me up—they caught me. And there was this- there's this spot behind the school, like, like an alcove thing and they were beating me up and one of them...one of them had a knife-”

You break off, the terror from back then returning tenfold and making your throat close. Dave looks furious and concerned all at once, his hands balled into tight fists,

“John,” He says, “John, they didn't-”

You shake your head, “They took my shirt off. And they laughed. They laughed at me, at everything and they made me walk home like that. They took my shirt and everyone was staring, and, god, _god,_ I'm a freak. I'm such a fucking freak and I'm so fucked up.”

Your hands are covering your eyes, so you don't see Dave move. You just hear the bed creak and you feel his arms slide around your shoulders pulling you tight to him. 

“Shut up,” He says quietly, “You're not. You're _not._ They're the ones who are fucked up, okay? They are. The fucked up ones are the ones who pushed you to this, and that-that includes me. I'm sorry, shit, I'm so sorry. I wasn't there. I wasn't there when I should've been. I'm sorry.”

You sniffle, breath hitching and he pulls back a little. His shades are gone and his eyes are wide and it's not till his hand touches your cheek that you realize you're crying. That after all this time, after refusing desperately to let yourself, you're crying. And when you realize, when Dave grabs you by the back of your neck and pulls you close so your face is pressed against his shoulder, you let it all out. You sob brokenly, huge sobs that wrack through your body. Your fingers curl into the fabric of Dave's tee-shirt and he just holds you tighter. 

It's not fair, none of it. Why do they have to beat on you? You never did anything. You never bothered anyone. Why did all your best friends live so far away? Why did you only get a couple weeks every year to actually see them? Why did you have to feel guilty about being friends with Nepeta and Equius because you're terrified you might get them beat up, too? Why could you only find comfort in your razor blades, in slicing into your skin till you bleed and the pain makes your head spin? It's _not fair._

You must've managed some of that out loud with some semblance of coherency because Dave is assuring you—“I know, John, I know it's not.”—but you don't care. You don't care if he knows how pathetic you are because he's _still here._

When your sobs fade into quiet hiccups, he releases his tight grip and lets you lean back to rub at your soaked cheeks. 

There's a large damp spot on the shoulder of his shirt, and you mumble an apology, but he waves it off, standing and fetching a shirt to change into. There's no protest on either of your parts when he climbs into bed with you this time. He runs his fingers through your hair and you stay awake talking about lighter topics, ones that don't make your chest ache. You're getting tired when the girls wander in and squish themselves into bed with you. It's a tight fit and it's uncomfortable and you're all going to wake up hot and sweaty in the morning, but you don't care, not with all your friends so close, not when they're all still here despite everything.

You fall asleep with a smile on your face.


	12. Chapter 12

You wake on your back with Rose curled into your right side, Dave laying on your left arm and Jade sprawled atop the three of you. Still muddled from sleep, Jade's weight on your chest and the lack of feeling in your left arm nearly send you into a panic before you regain your senses and berate yourself for being stupid. The spike in your heart rate and the quickening in your breath must've been noticeable, though, because Jade shifts a little and presses her face into your neck almost on instinct. The tension drains from your muscles, and you relax back into the bed, fully intent on falling back asleep.  
  
It's only after you've been laying still for a few moments that you feel the tightness in your bladder.  
  
“Shit,” You mumble, squirming a little because now that you're aware of it, the feeling is unbearable. You press your legs together while you look for some way to get out of the pile you and your friends have made. Some careful jostling allows you to pry your arm out from beneath Dave, but you still don't have any feeling in it, so it's not going to prove very helpful in your escape.  
  
Unfortunately, you can't see any way for you to get out of this without waking Jade, so you shake the shoulder her head is resting on and murmur,  
  
“Jade. _Jade.”_  
  
She grumbles and shifts on top of you before going still again. You snort, using your right hand to grab her hip and shake her again,  
  
 _“Jade.”_  
She huffs, breath hot against your neck and lifts her head blearily. Her eyes are half-lidded and foggy and she stares at you like she's not quite sure what you are.  
  
“Jade,” You say, “Jade, I need you to get off.”  
  
She blinks at you, brow furrowing a little, and you laugh quietly, “C'mon, Jade, I need to pee.”  
  
Another long blink and a little frown and she finally understands you well enough to roll off of you and wedge herself between you and Rose. It's still a tight fit, and you end up having to all but pry yourself from the bed, but with Jade no longer on your chest, you eventually manage the feat.  
  
You sort of waddle toward the bathroom in a way that you'd be embarrassed about were any of your friends awake. Blessedly, they're all asleep, and the instance of your uncomfortable hobbling is known only to you. You relieve yourself quickly with a soft sigh and wash your hands in water that's almost painfully cold.  
  
When you return to the bedroom, Jade's rolled back over into your spot with one arm curved over Rose and the other draped over Dave's hips. You should think it's cute, seeing them all sleeping soundly together, you should find it endearing and smile and flop back in with them and go back to sleep.  
  
What you shouldn't be doing is overthinking things.  
  
Of course, you're going to do it anyway.  
  
You're being stupid, you know. They're sleeping for god's sake, it's not like they're consciously shutting you out. It's not like it _means_ anything that your absence was so easily filled, and you don't care that it was filled so seamlessly that it's like you weren't even there at all.  
  
Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and you feel a little ill. For the briefest of moments, your mind strays to the bag you have tucked beneath the sink and to the razors inside. You shove that thought out of your mind almost the second it arrives, though; you think you've put your friends through enough, thanks.  
  
Instead, you head for the door. You manage to slip out without disturbing anyone, and you inhale the outside air greedily. It does little to help the churning of your stomach, but it does clear your head a bit. You heave a sigh and cast a look over your shoulder toward the bedroom. No one’s stirred.  
  
Chewing on your lower lip, you decide to head for the beach. You take your time going down the steps, careful not to step anywhere particularly sharp-looking with your bare feet. You reach the bottom without incident, and the warm sand is soothing after the rickety stairs--for rich people living on a private island, their stairs sure are lacking in quality.  
  
You stand there for a minute, curling your toes and observing the sky. It’s still pretty dark, but the sky is growing paler in preparation for the dawn. There’s a slight breeze; enough to ruffle your hair but not enough to properly chill you.  
  
Which is a shame; you’re feeling feverish.  
  
Needing to cool off, you make your way toward the water, your feet padding softly against the sand. The walk doesn’t take to long, and while the waves that roll over your feet aren’t exactly cold, the ocean spray is just cool enough to feel refreshing on your flushed skin.  
  
You close your eyes and inhale deeply and try to stop your mind from racing off into darker thoughts, but it’s hard when they’re always skirting around the edges of your consciousness. It’s like you can feel them there, heavy and draining, like swirling black holes that burden your shoulders even when you forget that they’re there. And it’s especially trying now, when you’re exhausted and anxious and they find places to slip inside and poison every fleeting thought that passes through your mind.  
  
You don’t even realize that you’ve been moving further into the water until a voice cuts through the silence of your thoughts and startles you into awareness. You’re standing deep enough that the waves crest at your hips, and your boxers and tee-shirt are almost completely soaked. You blink, startled, and mumble a quick, “Oh, shit!” before nearly tripping over yourself in an attempt to get quickly back to shore.  
  
Dave’s waiting there, looking equal parts unnerved and irate. His sunglasses are present, though they’re not on his nose, instead perched atop his head and nestled into the mussed curls of his hair. He frowns at you quietly as you slosh out of the water, your boxers now clinging uncomfortably to you and the wind against your damp skin cold enough to actually be uncomfortable.  
  
“The fuck was that about, John?” Dave asks when you’re finally in front of him, “Decided to go on a walk into the ocean at four in the fuckin’ morning?”  
  
You roll your eyes, “No, dad. Geeze, I was just thinking.”  
  
You don’t miss the way the furrow in his brow deepens or how his frown curves lower. He stares at you for a while through narrowed eyes, and you’re about to inform him about how uncomfortable he’s making you when he finally speaks.  
  
“Whatever. Just don’t think to much. C’mon, let’s go get you some dry clothes you ocean walking freak.”  
  
You slug him in the arm, “Fuck you.”  
  
He snorts and flings an arm around your shoulder and the two of you make your way back to the house in a weird sort of silence. It’d be comfortable if you weren’t still a little lost in the thoughts that had nearly consumed you earlier and if Dave wasn’t so obviously bothered by your little dip in the ocean. It’s not like it was even that big of a deal; you weren’t going to unconsciously drown yourself--at some point, you’re pretty sure you would’ve realized you’d gone too far and gotten back on your own without Dave’s intervention.  
  
Still, you don’t mind the heat of his body next to yours or the firm anchor of his arm around your shoulders, so you really can’t complain.  
  
Back at the house, Dave tells you to get changed and then informs you that he’s going to make some hot chocolate and that you should meet him out there once you’re dry. Which, of course, means that he wants to talk.  
  
Great.  
  
You’re more exhausted now than you were when you woke up, and you kind of just want to ignore him and crawl back into bed with Jade and Rose and just deal with Dave being mad, but you can’t do that to him. So you grab a change of clothes and shuffle into the bathroom.  
  
You have to peel the clothes off, and you use your towel to dry your skin completely before you wiggle into a new pair of boxers. After stuffing yourself into a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt, you wander out to meet Dave.  
  
He’s just pouring the cocoa when you arrive, and he nods toward one of the mugs when you sit down at the counter. You take it and cradle it in your hands, letting the warmth seep into your palms while you watch him carefully, apprehension heavy in your gut.  
  
Dave stares thoughtfully down at his own mug for a while before finally picking it up and walking over to take a seat on the barstool beside yours.  
  
“So,” He says, still not looking at you, “What were you thinkin’ about that prompted a spontaneous dip in the fuckin’ ocean?”  
  
Your shoulders hunch a little, and you curl around the warmth of your cocoa defensively, “I dunno. Stuff.”  
  
“Stuff like...?” He trails off and glances at you out of the corner of his eye.  
  
“I...y’know, just...” you deflate, puffing out a sigh, “I’m just frustrated, I guess.”  
  
“Need to get laid, Egbert?”  
  
That startles a laugh out of you and you see the little quirk at the corner of Dave’s mouth. It doesn’t do much to relieve the tension, but it does help you relax just a little. You lean over far enough to bump your shoulder against his,  
  
“Shut up, asshole. It’s not _that.”_  
  
“Then what?”  
  
You consider, just for a moment, telling him the truth. Admitting your insecurities, telling him that you actually feel like if you disappeared forever, your absence would go unnoticed, that your friends would fill the space you left without any trouble and you’d just be some distant memory. You want to admit everything, but you can’t think of a way to phrase that without making it seem like you don’t trust him or anyone else.  
  
And after everything you’d already dumped on him and Rose and Jade, you don’t think you need to throw that into the mix, too.  
  
Instead, you opt for something a little more neutral; it‘s not really a lie, either, because it‘s something that bothers you, just not what‘s bothering you now.  
  
“Do I look weak to you?”  
  
Your question startles him, if the widening of his eyes and the furrow in his brow are any indicators.  
  
“What?”  
  
You sigh, “Do I look weak? Y’know, do you look at me and think that it’d be pretty easy to beat me up?”  
  
“That is the single weirdest thing you’ve ever asked me.”  
  
“Dude, I need an answer.”  
  
Dave looks extremely exasperated as he turns and leans on his elbow, rolling his eyes at you like you were being ridiculous, “Fine, princess. You’re kinda scrawny and kinda lackin’ in the height department, but I, being a totally fucking great friend and a pretty decent dude, feel no need to kick the shit outta you just because you’re smaller than me.”  
  
“Well then pretend that you’re _not_ either of those things.”  
  
A bit of the playfulness drains from Dave’s features. He stares at you seriously with the beginnings of a frown playing at the corners of his lips. His mouth opens briefly, but he closes it just as quickly like he wanted to say something but decided against it.  
  
After a beat of silence, during which you grew drastically more uncomfortable beneath his gaze--which reminded you almost unnervingly of Rose’s--he finally speaks,  
  
“You’re talkin’ about those guys from your school, right?”  
  
Your cheeks puff out and you frown, “Yeah. I mean, do I just look like prime ass kicking material? Is there a target painted on my back or something?”  
  
“Nah, man. Some guys are just assholes.”  
  
You hum your agreement and actually decide to start drinking your cocoa. Dave follows suit, and you both drink in silence. Dave makes, and has always made, pretty shitty cocoa, but you don’t have the heart to turn it down; it’s relatively bearable if you take tiny sips and if he questions it you can always claim that it’s too hot to drink whole mouthfuls.  
  
You’re not actually sure what it is--maybe the awful drink or the tiredness that’s been slowly seeping back into your mind--but you feel a sudden wave of indignation and you nearly slam your mug down on the counter. Dave jumps beside you but you barely notice, glowering down at your mug and your hands, which are shaking as they grip tightly at the ceramic.  
  
“And it’s not fair. I can’t even fight back. They always come around in fucking packs and-and, fuck, I don’t know how to fight. It just- god it makes me so _mad,”_ You’re shaking harder and you don’t think you can stay seated anymore, so you stand and pace across the room, “What did I ever do to them? Huh? Nothing, that’s what. But they still just- just- _fuck.”_  
  
You drag a hand through your hair, breathing hard as you look back at Dave. He’s standing now, too, moving toward you cautiously with his hands outstretched a little like he’s afraid you’re going to lash out and hurt him or something. Which is mostly ridiculous, of course; you’re not that crazy.  
  
When he’s close enough, he grabs you firmly by the shoulders, effectively grounding you again.  
  
“Dude, I know. They’re fuckin’ assholes who need a good lesson in bein’ decent human beings. But if you’re havin’ trouble with defendin’ yourself, I could always help you out.”  
  
That gives you pause. You look at him with a confused frown.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Hello?” He rolls his eyes, “Have you met my Bro? Guy’s crazy about fightin’; he pretty much raised me to be a walking encyclopedia of all different types of shit crazy fightin’ moves. I could make you a master of combat for the reasonable price of 19.99.”  
  
You snort, “Shut up. Are you serious?”  
  
“Yeah, man. How’d you like to become a student at Dave Strider’s school of whoop ass?”  
  
The thought’s actually appealing on a few levels. It’d be great to at least be able to put up a fight if those guys bother you again, and it’d be an excuse to spend some one-on-one time with Dave for the last week and a half of the trip. As long as you don’t pop any awkward boners, the plan seems pretty flawless.  
  
“Alright,” You say with a firm nod, “Let’s do it.”  
  
–  
  
The last stretch of the trip consists of a lot of exploration of the island. Jade insists on it, and you find that you don't really mind, even if hiking through the trees and underbrush is exhausting. Dave complains more than anyone; at least until Jade shoves him into a stream to shut him up.  
  
He doesn't complain after that.  
  
Dave helps you with your training before dinner every night. The girls usually watch from the porch as Dave explains how to most effectively throw a punch and the proper way to stand so it's easier to avoid getting hit. He guides you through the motions sometimes and you don't miss the looks that Jade sends you and, subsequently, Dave doesn't miss the way your face grows inflamed. There are a few awkward moments—times when Dave's turning your hips and your heart rate spikes and times when the two of you end up standing close enough that you can feel his breath on your face—but neither of you call them into attention and they pass just as quickly as they occur.  
  
Your awkward, raging crush on Dave aside, your lessons with him actually help you a lot. You're sore and tired by the time the trip wraps up, but you also feel more like you could defend yourself, like you could put up a goddamn fight instead of relying on Nepeta and Equius for protection. And while you're hesitant to feel proud of yourself and to feel like things are looking up—because they never stay that way—you can't help but bask in the glow  
  
Leaving, you think, is the hardest thing to do.  
  
Your yearly meet-ups are almost like a different world, one where your best friends are within arms' reach, only a few feet away. You don't have to battle with timezones or shitty internet connections because they're _right there._ You can talk to them and hug them and soak in their presence and it's like a pleasant dream and the plane ride back to the States is the blaring alarm clock that drags you from it.  
  
Jade cries when you land, and she hugs you all long enough that you're actually scared you might miss your flight. She tells you to be careful and be safe and beat up anyone who tries to beat you up and you insist that you'll be alright. She then informs you that if anyone bothers you again she'll fly all the way to Washington and beat them up with you, and then she orders you to pester her the moment you land so she knows you're safe.  
  
It's hard, leaving her there with her grandfather, walking away from three weeks of paradise and toward the bitter reality that is your life.  
  
The flight from Hawaii to Washington is a quiet one. You, Rose and Dave watch a movie and lean on each other and you start to feel sick as the plane starts to descend, just as you always do because, yeah, this is really the end, this is the last time you get to see your friends until next-fucking-year. Rose slides her hand over yours and squeezes and you offer her as sincere a smile as you can manage.  
  
Rose's flight home is boarding by the time you get off the plane, so you hug her and tell her to pester you when she lands. She smiles at you and kisses your cheek and tells you to be safe. You wave at her and you and Dave stand and wait until you can't see her before before heading over to the terminal that Dave's flight is leaving from.  
  
You sit together and talk, and you do your best to ignore the void opening in your chest. You don't want him to leave. You want to go fly back to Jade's island and stay there for the rest of summer break and maybe even for the rest of your life because being there is a whole lot better than being here.  
  
You hunch in on yourself when Dave's flight starts boarding because this is it. Once Dave gets on that plane, you're going to walk out of the airport and wait for your dad and climb into the car and go home. You're going to go back to talking on instant messaging instead of face-to-face, back to Skype calls instead of piling together to watch movies.  
  
You're a little dizzy with panic and nerves and that weird sort of hollowness that's been plaguing you since the plane landed, and you think that's a pretty reasonable explanation for what you do next.  
  
It's a stupid thing to do, a really, really stupid thing to do.  
  
Dave's row is called for boarding, and he stands and stretches.  
  
“Well, John,” He says, “Guess I'll see you next year, huh?”  
  
You nod, standing along with him. You were honestly just going to hug him, that's all you wanted to do was hug him and go—that's what you should've done.  
  
You're not sure why you kiss him.  
  
It's weird and awkward because Dave kind of jolts and his nose knocks against yours and it's pretty much a one-sided, messy excuse of a first kiss but it happens and the moment it does two very different emotions collide in your head.  
  
One one hand, you're kissing Dave, even if he's not actually kissing back.  
  
On the other hand, _you're kissing Dave and he's not kissing back._  
  
Once realization sets in, you jerk away like you've been burned. You can't see Dave's eyes, but you see the way his mouth opens a little like he's going to say something, but he doesn't say _anything._ Panic's roaring in your ears and you splutter a mangled apology before stumbling over yourself to get the fuck out of there. You hear him calling your name, but you ignore it because, wow, what the fuck did you just do?  
  
You know he's still in love with Karkat, you know he wants nothing to do with you beyond the two of you being best friends, you _know_ that you just made the biggest mistake of your entire life and oh god you're going to have a panic attack.  
  
You can feel it coming on; you're getting dizzy and your throat is closing and you're pretty fucking sure you're about to have a breakdown alone in a crowded airport but then there's a hand on your back and one clutching your shoulder and for a second you think it's Dave, but that thought is shattered when a familiar voice rumbles,  
  
“Son? Are you alright?”  
  
And right now, you don't care about anything. You don't care that you're seventeen and you don't care that you look pathetic—you lurch forward and bury your face in your father's shirt and cling to him as the panic hits you hard. You're wheezing and tears are soaking the fabric of your dad's button up and you should be embarrassed, but right now you really don't care.  
  
Your dad, to his credit, doesn't miss a beat. He puts a hand on the back of your head and lets the other one curve around your shoulders, rubbing soothing circles into your back. He murmurs comforts and talks you through your panic and you wonder idly if maybe this isn't the first time he's done this.  
  
You wonder if maybe your mom had panic attacks, too.  
  
When you've regained control over yourself again and you can breathe and walk without falling flat on your face, your dad leads you toward the luggage carousel and you pointedly ignore all the stairs. You'd been tired enough after your flights, but now you were downright exhausted and you probably just fucked up one of the best friendships you've ever had and you're not in the mood for anything other than going home and crashing hard.  
  
You and your dad collect your stuff and he doesn't say anything about your breakdown even after you've climbed in the car and are on your way home. Your phone is buzzing in your pocket at you're pretty sure it's Dave, but you don't want to know what he has to say.  
  
It can't be anything good.  
  
The drive home is mostly silent; you're tired, and your dad's got that look on his face that tells you he's thinking pretty hard about something so you leave him to it. Walking into your house makes you feel like the world's been pulled out from beneath your feet, but you do your best to shake the feeling off while you help your dad haul all your stuff up to your room.  
  
You start getting ready for bed the second all your stuff's securely tucked away in the corner of your bedroom to be unpacked later. You've already brushed your teeth and changed into a loose tee-shirt and a pair of sweats—it's a lot cooler here in Seattle, even if it's still summer—when your dad comes into your room again.  
  
He looks upset. His brow's furrowed and his lips are pinched.  
  
“Son,” He says, and you're frozen in the middle of your room, halfway to another goddamn panic attack because god this can't be good, “I...there is something we need to talk about. But I know that you're tired, and I'm sure it can wait till morning.”  
He relaxes just slightly, and the tension in your shoulders eases as the furrow in his brow smooths. He crosses the room to hug you briefly, and you're kind of glad that he doesn't want a super long, cheesy, teary-eyed embrace because you've had your fill of that today, thanks.  
  
“I'm glad to have you home, son,” He says, offering one last tired smile before ruffling your hair and leaving your room.  
  
The second your door clicks shut behind him, you flop back onto your bed with a grunt. You'd almost forgotten about that weird phone call you'd received before going to Jade's, how upset your dad had been and how that woman had told you that you could call her mother. Like, what the fuck?  
  
With the way your dad was acting, you can safely guess that it's serious.  
  
Electing to ignore such thoughts tonight, you fish your phone out of the shorts you'd discarded earlier and open up your Pesterchum app. You pointedly ignore Dave's flashing username and instead click on Jade's—you doubt she's awake, but she's the one you want to talk to.  
  
\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] at 19:02 --  
EB: hey jade  
EB: i know you're probably asleep but i just needed to talk to someone  
EB: and, well, you're the only one who actually knows about my problem, haha.  
EB: it's okay if you don't answer tonight, but if you could get back to me i'd really appreciate it because i'm kind of freaking out over here  
EB: i  
EB: i kissed dave  
EB: i don't really know why, like, i guess i was just kind of upset about the meet up being over and it just kind of happened  
GG: WHAT?????????????????????????/  
EB: oh you're there!  
GG: YOU KISSED HIM?????????????????????  
EB: uh, yeah  
EB: i mean it wasn't anything special 'cause i was the only one actually doing the kissing and i'm pretty sure dave's not interested in me like that  
GG: WHAT DID HE DO?  
EB: i don't know  
EB: nothing, really  
EB: and i kinda bolted right afterward so he couldn't actually say anything  
GG: OMG  
GG: JOHN  
EB: what?  
GG: YOU KISSED DAVE STRIDER  
EB: you know this isn't actually helping  
EB: maybe i should've messaged someone else  
GG: nonononono  
GG: sorry i shouldnt have freaked out  
GG: its just weird you know??  
GG: not that its weird that you like him its just  
GG: god im not being any help at all am I  
EB: no, not really  
GG: im sorry i just  
GG: i dont know what you want me to say??  
GG: :/  
EB: that's alright  
EB: i shouldn't have bothered you anyway  
GG: no!! dont say that!!  
GG: its not your fault i don't know how to give proper advice!!!  
GG: growing up on an island doesn't do much for social graces. :P  
EB: yeah...  
EB: look, i'm gonna go i'm pretty tired.  
EB: sorry for bothering you  
GG: john egbert you are not bothering me!!!!!!!  
GG: >:(((  
EB: euurgh sorry i'm just tired okay?  
GG: okaaaay  
GG: goodnight john  
GG: <3  
EB: yeah goodnight jade  
EB: <3  
\-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering gardenGnostic [GG] at 19:23 --  
  
Feeling no better than you did before pestering Jade, you tuck your phone under your pillow and cocoon yourself in your blankets. You should probably check your messages from Dave, but as appealing as facing cold hard rejection in the form of a wall of red text sounds, you think you'd sleep better while you can still truthfully call Dave your best friend—the messages will be there in the morning.  
  
You don't sleep well.  
  
–  
  
When morning comes, you find that you don't actually have a chance to check Dave's messages at all because the house is already in a commotion when you wake.  
  
You can hear loud voices downstairs and a bleary, disoriented glance around your room informs you that you're not alone. Confused, you grope for your glasses and shove them on your face so you can find out who, exactly, has invaded your bedroom while you were asleep.  
  
The girl is standing next to your closed door, leaning against the wall and looking wildly uncomfortable. She's got curly black hair and a pair of oval glasses and she's chewing on her lip hard enough that you're a little worried she might bight through it.  
  
You're fairly confident you've never seen her before in your life.  
  
“Uh, hello?”  
  
She jumps with a startled squeak, “Oh! You're up!”  
  
“Yeah,” You say, dragging a hand through your hair, “Uh, why are you in my room?”  
  
She sighs, shifting uncomfortably on her feet, “Well, our parents are in the middle of a tiff and your father told me that I could wait here until things calmed down, but if you'd like me to leave, their arguing really doesn't bother me-”  
  
Her voice is lilted with a southern accent and as nice as it is, you're still tired and it's early and your eyes are sore and she's talking fast enough that you're getting a headache. You flap your hand at her as you pinch the bridge of your nose,  
  
“No, it's fine, whatever. Just- who are you?”  
  
For a moment, she looks startled. Do you know her? Are you supposed to know her? The surprise melts into a sheepish sort of smile, though, and she laughs awkwardly,  
  
“Yes, I suppose you wouldn't recognize me. I'm, um, Jane.”  
  
It takes you a minute, you admit. You're still tired and sleep muddled and it's not until you've stared at her a while and realized that her eyes are a kind of a cyan blue that reminds you of the text color of a certain chumhandle-  
  
“Jane?” You ask, the realization bulldozing its way into your head, “Like, Jane-Jane, the Jane who's been messaging me?”  
  
She nods, “I was going to warn you earlier about my rather impromptu visit, but I didn't think that my mother would insist on visiting so soon after you'd returned and-”  
  
She's interrupted—and cuts herself off with another indignant squeak—as the door to your bedroom crashes open without warning. You jump, yourself, and find yourself faced with a woman you've never seen before in your life. She's rather short with an impossible ammount of curly black hair spilling down over her shoulders. She's dressed to a tea in a dark grey pantsuit with huge, gaudy gold earrings dangling from her ears and a pair of fuschia cat-eye glasses perched on her nose.  
  
She's grinning at you, and you have only a moment to be unnerved before she's crossing the room and squeezing your cheeks with her manicured hands. She twists your face left and right as though she's examining you and you make a disgruntled sound because, yeah, this is awful.  
  
“Boy,” She says, “You're just as cute as y'were when you were a baby. Inn't he cute, Janey?”  
  
A glance in Jane's directions shows that her demeanor's changed a bit. She looks smaller, having shrunken against the wall at, who you presume to be, her mother's entrance. She nods kind of meekly and says,  
“Yes, mother.”  
  
Loud, heavy footsteps enter the room before the woman's being pried away from you by your very angry father—and wow you've never seen him look this pissed.  
  
“Betty,” He seethes, “I would ask that you not touch him.”  
  
She rolls her eyes, “Honestly, you can't stop me from touching my own nephew. Even after we agreed-”  
  
“We didn't get a chance to discuss that, Betty, since he only arrived home _yesterday.”_  
  
“I know he did, Jeff, which is why it's better to do it sooner. Look, he's already all packed up.”  
  
 _“Betty-”_  
  
“Um, excuse me?”  
  
Everyone turns to look at you as though they'd forgotten that you were standing _right fucking here._ Your head hurts and you're really fucking confused and you don't much appreciated being treated like you weren't there.  
  
“What's going on?”  
  
The woman—Betty, and you recognize that name from the phone call with your dad at the airport—swoops in, practically shoving your dad out of the way.  
  
“I'm your daddy's sister,” She says, “But see, I'm here to tell y' that y' don't gotta live wit this crotchety ol' man anymore. See, daddy dearest decided to bail out on me when we were kids—gave up the family fortune t' be what? A business man?”  
  
She cackles kind of cruelly and you don't miss the darkening in your dad's eyes and you're pretty damn sure you don't like her. She ignores any indication you make, though, and continues,  
  
“'nyway, figured I should give ya the same chance I gave Janey here. So, Johnny, how'd y' like t' ditch this old dude and move in with me?”  
  
Your voice gets caught in your throat and you turn your eyes to your dad. You have no idea what the fuck any of this means and you're feeling kind of nauseated, but your dad provides no comfort. He looks just as sick as you feel, but he catches your eyes and his lips press into a grim line.  
  
“John,” He says firmly, “I haven't been completely open with you all this time. Jane, here, is your-” he swallows thickly, “She's your sister.”  
  
And, okay, you really weren't expecting that. You look at Jane, at the blue of her eyes and the shape of her face and the small nose that all look kind of like your mom and, wow, how had you not realized? Your dad doesn't pause to give you a chance to really react,  
  
“When your mother died, Betty tried to get custody of the both of you. I was a mess at the time, and that's what it took to make me realize that I couldn't wallow in grief forever. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to keep Jane,” He looks at her with a sort of softness in his expression, and Jane quickly averts her eyes, “But I did keep you, and-”  
  
“Why didn't you tell me?”  
  
You're shaking—you're confused and hurt and angry, really angry, and you don't know why.  
  
“I'm sorry, John,” He says quietly, “I was afraid that if I told you, you'd wish to join your sister and-”  
  
He cuts himself off this time, looking small and ashamed and so unfamiliar. He doesn't look like your dad and the thought makes you sick. Betty spies the lull in the conversation and jumps right back in,  
  
“So yer daddy and I struck a deal. You get t' decide who y' spend her last year as a kid with—me or him. Janey and I came t' pick you up so you can spend the rest of the summer with us 'n make up yer mind before school starts.”  
  
“Wait, _what?”_  
  
You whirl around to look at your dad—who had apparently agreed to send you off to fuck knows where for the rest of your summer—but he averts his gaze and your gut twists.  
  
“That's right, Johnny,” Betty smiles toothily, in a way that's distinctly shark like and twenty different kinds of unsettling, “You get t' spend the summer with me.”  
  
–  
  
\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 18:43 --  
TG: dude john  
TG: look man i know youre probably freaking out right now if your exit was any clue  
TG: and it totally was btw  
TG: but dude please dont freak out and do something stupid okay  
TG: wow that was really insensitive wasn't it fuck  
TG: look im not saying that i think youre gonna do anything stupid  
TG: and im not saying that what you do is stupid  
TG: fuck this is hard what the fuck am i even saying  
TG: dont get your panties in a twist alright just give me some time to process shit  
TG: dude would you please fucking answer me now im freaking the fuck out  
TG: fuck the planes about to take off i gotta go  
TG: im going to message you later an were gonna fucking talk about this alright  
TG: fuck  
\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 18:55 --

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 21:33 --  
TG: alright im home now  
TG: and you and i need to have a serious fucking heart to heart here man  
TG: like seriously what was that shit  
TG: youre not even gay  
TG: mr not a homosexual  
TG: okay so maybe thats a shitty example because you were thirteen when you said that and youre not nearly as annoying about it as we make you out to be  
TG: but still man i thought you were totally into the ladies  
TG: didnt think you wanted anything to do with the strider sausage  
TG: and i mean its totally okay that youre totally mad in love with me  
TG: okay dude are you going to answer me or not  
TG: fine ignore me like a fucking douche whatever  
TG: look man just give me some time to figure this shit out okay  
TG: and not in that stupid way that people do where they say theyre thinking about it but theyre really just puttin off sayin no  
TG: im gonna put a helluva lotta thought into this okay  
TG: youre my best friend and im taking this serious as a goddamn heart attack  
TG: okay so  
TG: later i guess  
\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 21:52 --  
  
Okay.  
  
You tuck your phone away from you and inhale deeply.  
  
Okay.  
  
You'd like to say that you're totally calm, totally rational right now, but that's not really something you could say truthfully because right now you're in the back of a car headed to some city down in Oregon with your aunt and sister in the front seat and your best friend is apparently actually giving some thought to the idea of you and him being a thing.  
  
So yeah, you're kind of freaking out more than a little.  
  
Your aunt had wasted no time. You'd barely gotten a chance to brush your teeth before she was shoving your bags right back into your arms and ushering you out toward the car, insisting that if you waited too long your dad might change his mind. You made attempts at insisting that you should get a fucking say in this too, and this felt a little like a kidnapping, but your dad had just stood helplessly by, looking less and less like the dad you knew every second that Betty was in the house. Seeing the fight drained from him made your struggling seem pretty fruitless.  
  
You're a little unnerved. Betty hadn't been terribly mean to anyone but your dad, but Jane was silent in the front seat, keeping her hands folded on her lap and staring resolutely out the window. You'd hoped she'd sit back with you and give you a little bit more of an explanation about what the fuck was happening, but she'd gone to the passenger seat almost immediately and hadn't spoken a word to you since she introduced yourself.  
  
It'd be nice if you could at least message your friends, maybe even talk some stuff out with Dave, but you don't have internet access in the car and all you can do is reread old pesterlogs and distract yourself from the tense silence.  
  
The car ride is only a few hours, but it feels like years before you're stopping in front of a rather modest looking home. It's pretty isolated, nestled in one of Oregon's many forests, and you might've been impressed by its size if you hadn't just spent three weeks at Jade's home.  
  
The silence carries on as you haul your stuff out of the trunk and follow Betty up the walk and toward the house. She holds the door open for you and you struggle inside, Jane following quietly at your heels.  
  
“Welcome home, Johnny!” Betty says, closing the door and moving to stand next to you, “Janey'll show you to yer room, but first, I'm gonna need your phone.”  
  
Your brow furrows, “Why would you-”  
  
“I just don't want you to be distracted, sweetie,” She says, holding out her hand and waggling her fingers, “You've got a big decision to make, after all.”  
  
That sounds like a whole lot of bullshit to you, but Jane shoots you a meaningful glance so you comply reluctantly. Betty plucks the device from your hand and drops it into her purse with a tight smile.  
  
“Okay, now a few ground rules,” She ticks them off on her fingers as she lists them, “I want you in bed by ten. Breakfast is at 9, lunch is at 1 and dinner is at 6—yer to be at every meal on time. Bee quiet; I have work to do and I don't appreciate bein' interrupted. All the facilities in this house are available to you, but you'll have to share with Janey. There're no computers here, and I will keep yer phone unless you need to go into town, in which case I may need to get ahold of you. And last-”  
  
Her smile grows sweeter, almost sickly so, and you're starting to think that this was the biggest mistake of your life.  
  
“You will call me mother.”  
  
That hits you hard and not in a good way. You didn't know your mom, but she was still your mom; her death didn't invalidate her motherhood. You scowl,  
  
“No fucking way. You're not-”  
  
Honestly, you're not expecting the strike to the face. Your cheek stings and you stagger with the force of it. It's a little funny, you think, that you spent the last week learning how to defend yourself and this woman still catches you off guard.  
  
“You are in my home,” Betty says quietly, all traces of playfullness gone, “You will respect me, Johnathon.”  
  
You know that you should just listen, you should bow your head and nod and apologize, but god fucking dammit, you've been pushed around for too damn long. You're sneering before you're fully away of your actions,  
  
“My name's not Johnathon, _Betty.”_  
  
She inhales sharply, eyes widening and lips pressing into a tight line. That gives you a sick sort of satisfaction.  
  
“Fine,” She says before grabbing you roughly by the arm and hauling you along side her down the hall, “Honestly, I haven't had t' use the disciplinary room since Janey was a baby, but I guess I'll have to use it again t' get rid of that smart mouth o' yers.”  
  
“Mother, please,” Jane chases after the pair of you, “He didn't mean-”  
  
“No,” You spit, and you're not sure where this confidence is coming from. Maybe because you know that you can fight back, maybe because you're just really fucking confused and angry and none of this makes sense and this woman's not your fucking mom, “I meant every word.”  
  
“Jeff ain't nearly strict enough,” Betty seethes, “S'alright, Janey. You just go on—Johnny's gotta learn a lesson.”  
  
Jane stops her pursuit, watching you with wide eyes and you're suddenly more worried than you were before. You don't know what this woman's capable of, what she's done to make Jane so obedient—fuck, what were you thinking?  
  
You're not about to take it back, though; the panic's tightening in your throat but you're staying resolute. Betty's done nothing to deserve your respect—she's insulted your dad, dragged you out of your own house, apparently stolen your sister away when you were babies, and then tried to get you to disregard your mom just because she wanted you to—and it's about fucking time you started standing your goddamn ground.  
  
She stops in front of a rather unassuming door; it's no different from any other you've passed, but when she opens it, your eyes are met with darkness.  
  
“Inside,” She orders, shoving you forward and giving you no choice.  
  
You stumble in and find that it's no bigger than a very small broom closet. You turn to ask her what the fuck she thinks she's doing, but she just smiles and tells you to enjoy yourself.  
  
Then the door closes and the darkness is absolute.  
  
Fuck.  
  
 _Fuck._  
  
“Hey!” You shout, practically launching yourself at the door, “Hey you can't- fuck, let me out of here! What the fuck are you doing?”  
  
You're met with only silence, and the panic is setting in fast. You grapple for the doorknob but find that there isn't one. Shit, shit, shit, shit.  
  
You pound on the door until the panic's so bad that you can't even hear yourself shouting anymore. Your knees give out and you sink to the ground and it's so fucking dark and you can feel every wall pressing against some part of you and your breaths are shallow and you tangle your fingers in your hair and pull and pull until the pain drowns out some of the panic.  
  
God, you hope summer ends quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha wow this is getting stupid
> 
> this update reveals that ybtyt is actually a soap opera


	13. Chapter 13

I'm really, really sorry, and I hate to disappoint all of my incredibly lovely readers, but as of now, You're Better Than Your Tears is officially discontinued.

There are a few reasons for it, but the main one is that I simply don't like the story. I don't enjoy writing it, and all it really does is make me feel even worse about myself than I already do, and, honestly, my mental health is more important to me than finishing this fic is. I considered writing one long final chapter to tie up a few things, but I think I'd rather leave it as-is than finish it with a half-assed attempt at closure, so I guess you guys can just figure the ending out for yourselves.

I'm really very, very, sorry and I wish there was more I could say here, but there really isn't. If you want to talk to me and ask questions about basic plot ideas that I was going to include in the rest of the chapters, I'd be happy to answer them on [my blog](http://prospitianpawn.tumblr.com).


End file.
